


Predestined

by diemdoll



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Slow Burn, Veela Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2018-09-19 05:59:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9421592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diemdoll/pseuds/diemdoll
Summary: "I would say congratulations are in order, but you won't be making it down the aisle." Madam Monroe told Hermione as her fingers continued to trace the contours of her hand. "You were predestined for another."





	1. Chapter 1

 

::

 

Hermione didn't know how she had ended up outside of a dump like this. She quickly amended her thinking when she heard the muffled sound of sniveling behind her.

 

She turned around and gave the sobbing redhead her best sympathetic smile while simultaneously pinning her as the culprit behind the series of unfortunate events that had transpired over the course of the last few hours. She knew she couldn't exactly blame her broken heel, ripped dress, or rain soaked hair on Ginny Weasley, but, if nothing else, the witch _was_ directly responsible for two out of the last three reservations they had already missed.

 

And while she also knew, somewhere deep down, that Ginny hadn't meant to hijack her night, that small fact didn't make her feel any more agreeable towards the witch than she already did. The moment Ginny had apparated into her flat sobbing as if the world as she knew it was crumbling around her was the exact moment Hermione knew her night was going to be shoved into the backseat. She supposed, if she was being fair, she could also place some of the blame on Harry. After all, it had been his bright idea to break up with his girlfriend on the night of his best friend's hen party.

 

Hermione clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth in annoyance. She would most certainly be having a talk with him when this night was over.

 

"Ladies, the prophetess is awaiting your arrival." Hermione felt her skin crawl at the sound of his voice. It was just as greasy as his appearance, if not more so. "Not so fast!" He sang as they tried to shoulder past him. He held his arm over the door to bar them from going any further.

 

"Thirty galleons is required before services can be rendered." He gave the group of witches a wretched smile that was only made worse when they realized how many of his teeth were missing.

 

“Thirty?” Ginny hiccuped, “That’s _twice_ what the sign said!”

 

The man shrugged apathetically. “Prices go up with demand, and tonight is a very busy night for the prophetess." He pointed to the line that stretched behind them. "You can pay the price or search the alley for someone as reputable as our prophetess."

 

Hermione couldn't contain her laughter at the thought of a “reputable” glorified fortune teller. She hadn't believed in Divination when she was in school, and her opinion had hadn't changed now that she was three years out. It didn't make it any better that the 'prophetess' offered her readings inside of what looked like a dilapidated building.

 

The man jerked his head over to Hermione, his smile growing as her discomfort did. "What's this? A non-believer in our midst?" He pointed his finger at Hermione who fought the urge to swat it away. "Forty galleons now or you must walk away."

 

"You just said thirty!" Parvati exclaimed.

 

He looked down at his dirt stained nails as if they were more interesting than the conversation at hand. "Price _also_ goes up when the negativity does." He nodded his head towards Hermione who sulked under his stare. "Forty-five galleons now...take it or leave it."

 

"Hermione, don't!" Parvati pleaded half-heartedly as Hermione reached into her coin purse and pulled out the galleons he requested.

 

Hermione ignored her, dropping the coins into the palm of the man's hand. She wanted to get this night done and over with, and it certainly wasn't going to get that way if they stood in the rain arguing all night.

 

He quickly counted the galleons before stuffing them into his back pocket. He nodded at the women before opening the door and stepping aside.

 

"Miss!" The man called out to Hermione, "Because I am a kind man if you come out of this meeting unchanged in your beliefs I will return half of your money!"

 

::

 

Hermione was counting all of the ways she was going to make Harry Potter pay when they finally reached the prophetess' room. She wrinkled her nose as she looked around the room unable to look past the peeling pink wallpaper and oddly shaped stains that she could only hope were from water damage.

 

“Welcome, ladies, I’m Madam Monroe.” The woman announced as they gathered around her small table. She motioned to the chairs around them before smiling airily, “Choose any chair that is calling out to your spirit. There are also some cushions next to the stand if that is where your spirit is guiding you.”

 

Madam Monroe waved her hands in the air as if she were fanning herself. "Merlin, I am getting such good energy from all of you," She hummed quietly to herself before closing her eyes,"I'm already sensing that at least one of you needs my guidance. I'm being pulled to one of you over here." She waved her hand near Ginny and Lavender.

 

"It's me!" Ginny looked at the woman as if she couldn't believe she had been right.

 

Madam Monroe smiled warmly, her eyes still closed. "Spectacular. Let me take your hand so I can feel what your spirit needs." She reached forward and laced her fingers with Ginny's. "Ahh, I'm getting that it's heartbreak that brought you to me."

 

"She thought he was going to propose, but he broke up with her instead." Lavender announced, mouthing a 'sorry' to Ginny when the red-faced witch turned to glare at her.

 

Hermione ran her fingers over her throbbing temples and leaned back in her chair. She could already tell they were going to miss another one of their reservations.

 

"Let's see what the crystal ball says about your union." She placed Ginny's hand down gently and rolled up her long billowing sleeves. "Hm, yes, I'm sensing that a young man, not much older than yourself, is at a crossroads of sorts. I'm getting the feeling that he has a very important job." She nodded to herself as she looked deeply into the crystal ball. "A curse-breaker, healer, professor--" She looked up at Ginny who had remained silent as she listed off the different occupations. "An auror?"

 

Ginny threw her hand over her heart. "Yes! He just finished his training last month."

 

"I'm seeing that your young man is in turmoil. He's stuck in between his duties and you." Madam Monroe said softly. She looked around the table at each of the witches, her eyes landing on Hermione who was the only one who didn't seem impressed.

 

"So that's it?" Ginny's voice broke as she asked this, and she buried herself in Lavender's shoulder.

 

Madam Monroe shook her head. “Your story is not finished yet, love.” She ran her fingers down the ball. “It’s only a new chapter, but it’s up to you to write it to your liking.”

 

“Bollocks.” Hermione muttered under her breath. She jolted in her seat when she felt Lavender’s foot connect with her shin. “Ouch, Lav! Why are you all looking at me like that?” She asked crossly, her cheeks tinting at their obvious disapproval. “She’s _clearly_ a fraud!”

 

“Hermione!”

 

“No, it’s quite alright. There is always one skeptic in a group this size.” Madam Monroe held up a hand to stop the objections of the table. “Tell me, what are your concerns?” She asked, turning towards Hermione.

 

“I paid forty-five galleons for you to look into a piece of glass and tell my friend utter rubbish that, quite frankly, I could have told her myself at no cost at all.” Hermione slammed her hand down on the table in frustration. “And honestly, she would have been far better off if I--” Hermione’s sentence ended abruptly when she was jerked forward by her hand.

 

Madam Monroe turned Hermione's hand over and traced the lines on her palm before she looked up at her with her eyes set wide as if she had been scared.

 

"I would say congratulations are in order--"

 

"Yes, I'm engaged. You can tell by my ring. That's not a revelation that will make me a believer." Hermione gritted out. She wouldn't encourage this woman any more than any of them already had.

 

Madam Monroe shook her head as her fingers continued to trace the contours of Hermione’s hand. “No, silly girl, I would say congratulations are in order, but you won’t be making it down the aisle.”

 

Hermione gasped, renewing her struggle to free her hand. “You wretched--”

 

“At least not with the one who put this ring on your finger. No. Not him at all. Can’t be him.” Madam Monroe closed her eyes, her lips parting as she breathed in deeply. She pressed her thumb deeply into the middle of Hermione’s wrist, and the witch jumped at the feeling of electricity that pricked at her skin.

 

“You, my darling, were predestined for another.” Madam Monroe hummed as she let go of Hermione’s hand. “His skin burns with fire, but he will never scald you. Not you, no, never you.” Madam  Monroe placed both of her hands on the side of the now glowing crystal ball. "Not until it's time for the two of you to become one."

 

Hermione jumped to her feet with such vigor that the chair she was sitting in tipped over and fell to the ground with a thud.

 

“Let’s go she’s absolutely nutters!” She yelled impatiently at her friends. 

 

"You will fight it, but you can't fight what's been written in stone. You must save him, or you'll lose yourself too." She called out as the group of girls rushed from the room.

 

“I can’t believe you dragged me here to see a nutty old bat!” Hermione tried to run her fingers through her hair but caught her fingers on the knots that had formed from her time spent standing out in the rain.

 

"She seemed like she knew what she was talking about," Lavender mumbled, shrugging under the heat of Hermione's stare. "She reminded me a lot of Professor Trelawney at the end. Didn't she, Parvati?"  She looked towards the other witch for back up.

 

“She was nothing like her!” Hermione had hardly ever been a fan of Professor Trelawney, but at least the woman had been right sometimes.  “She’s nothing more than a Diagon Alley fortune teller with a few party tricks up her sleeve.”

 

“How do you explain the ball?” Ginny asked as they neared the end of the hallway. "It started to _glow_ , Hermione."

 

“Your brother owns a store filled with prank toys, and you’re asking me about a glowing ball?” Hermione laughed in disbelief. “She either got it from his store or it's a bloody charm.”

 

“But you know every charm there is and--”

 

Hermione huffed. “Look, Ron and I are getting married in less than three months and, believe me, I will drag him down the aisle if need be,” She promised, “Can we just go home now?”

 

“Leaving so soon, ladies?” The man from earlier asked of them as they walked through the door. He looked at Hermione’s face and smiled. “You seemed stressed, love. Is everything alright?”

 

Hermione pointed her finger at the man accusingly. ‘You!” She seethed, “I know you put her up to this. Did you get a kick out of it then?”

 

The man placed his hand over his heart. "Me? I have no idea what you're talking about, love." He said innocently, "I can, however, tell that your future isn't what you thought it would be. We can't help what's in store for our us. We can only greet it with an open mind and open arms." He narrowly missed the finger that Hermione jabbed at him.

 

“Wait!” He called out after her, laughing as she stomped away. “Do you want your money or not?”

::

"You won't believe what your sister put me through tonight!" Hermione ranted as she walked to and from the washroom. She stared at Ron with one hand set on her hip and the other waving a towel in the air. "A fortune teller, Ronald! A _fortune teller_!"

 

Hermione turned the faucet and let the water warm under her palms before splashing some on her face. She scrubbed at her skin, trying to free it of the makeup she had let Parvati put on her before they left.

 

"I had to pay forty-five galleons for your sister to be told that Harry might, or might not, come back to her." Hermione peeked her head around the corner to see if he was still listening. "Honestly, he might not for the stunt he pulled tonight."

 

"Hermione, my love, my darling." Ron clutched the sides of his head miserably. "Can we talk about this tomorrow when I don't feel like my head is going to split in two?"

 

Hermione gawked at him, throwing the towel so that it landed squarely in the middle of his chest.

 

“Oh, my apologies, Ronald. I forgot that you were able to go out and have fun during your night out with your friends.” She reached for a hair tie and pulled her hair back into what she hoped looked like a sensible ponytail. She climbed onto the bed and sat crisscrossed next to him. “Let me just hold it all in until tomorrow then.”

 

Ron sighed, circling his arms around her waist and pulling her down next to him.

 

"Don't be cross with me. Save all that energy for Harry." He placed his chin on the top of her head. "I'm sorry Ginny dragged you to a fortune teller tonight. What did she predict for you? Years of blissful marriage to the most strapping young auror in town?"

 

Hermione stilled in his arms, suddenly feeling guilty. She reached a hand up to run across the stubble of his face before moving in closer to him.

 

“Exactly that.” She agreed as she reached to turn the lights off.

::

“Rounds are boring,” Parvati whined, leaning a hip against the inquiries desk. “We’ve spent the whole day running files back and forth like owls don't exist.”  She reached over the counter and grabbed a sweet from the candy dish, humming as she popped it into her mouth. “It’s illegal in at least three different countries I think!”

 

Hermione pushed her quill through her bun and watched as Parvati stuffed more sweets into her yellow robe.

 

“Not stealing,” Parvati told her before Hermione had the chance to accuse her of it. “It’s payment for being bored half to death every day and, remarkably, coming back anyways. Remind me when we become actual healers again? ”

 

Hermione sighed. Parvati asked her this at least once an hour every hour despite her response never changing.

 

“Every healer was once a trainee, Parvati.” Hermione reminded her, “Think of it as a rite of passage! We’ll soon get our green robes, and we can burn these awful yellow ones.”

 

“ _Hermione_.” Parvati whined, tipping her head back.

 

“Fine. In thirty-two and a half days we’ll be full-fledged healers. _Not_ that I’ve been counting because you know I think this process has been very educational.”

 

“Yes, I’ll always remember the months I spent diagnosing bumps and boils on the elderly. It has been dead helpful.” Parvati deadpanned. She looked at Hermione before she smiled coyly. “Did you tell Ron about the man you’re leaving him for?” She bumped Hermione’s side with her elbow playfully. “Humor me, Hermione! We’ve only ten more minutes before break is over.”

 

“I’m not going to humor you by talking about some crazy cow of a fortune teller,” Hermione whispered, “I can’t believe I spent my hen party sitting in some seedy little building and getting assaulted by some loon! Look at the bruise she gave me!” Hermione pulled up the sleeve of her robe and showed Parvati the oddly shaped mark on her wrist.

 

“No, you’ve had that bruise for a while now,” Parvati announced after staring at Hermione’s skin for a few seconds. “I always thought it was like one of those little tattoos you can get from George’s joke shop. You know, the ones in the funny little shapes that change colors after a while. I once got one in the shape of a bunny.”

 

“I’ve not had this bruise for a while!” Hermione pulled back down her sleeve. “ I’d think I’d notice something like this.”

 

“It changed colors because it’s healing, but you’ve definitely had it for a while. I first noticed it on your birthday, and  I remember gossiping to Lavender if it was from a sexua--” Parvarti suddenly cut herself off and reached behind herself, grabbing the file she had set down when she had first walked over. “And like I was saying, Hermione, I just think these last few months have been sensational. I’ve learned so much!”

 

Hermione looked at her in confusion before she turned around and saw Healer Pye standing behind her.

 

“Oh, Healer Pye! I didn’t even see you walk up!” Parvati exclaimed, “Wonderful to see you. Do you need any help?” She hugged her file to her chest and smiled brightly at him.

 

Healer Pye looked between the two of them suspiciously before nodding.

 

"I need the both of you on floor two immediately," He handed each of them three green files, "We're down a few pair of hands because of a...situation. You'll both be seeing patients on this floor while we get everything under control."

 

Parvati squealed in excitement the moment he was out of range.

 

"We've got our first cases that we get to do by ourselves! No surly healers standing behind us with their arms crossed and all of their bloody questions." She jumped up and down. "Parvati, tell me the magical origin of this boil! Parvati, tell us why this one is pulsating? Parvati how'd you pass your N.E.W.T.S and not know this?" She imitated the gruff voices of the various healers they worked with perfectly. "Because I cheated, that's how I bloody passed." She mumbled as they walked to the lift together.

 

"You didn't cheat, Parvati." Hermione laughed. She looked over at the dark-haired witch who was humming to herself. "You didn't cheat, right?"

 

“I’ll never tell.” Parvati grinned as the door to the lift closed.

::

 

“Bloody hell,” Parvati whispered, grabbing onto Hermione’s arm as they walked down the corridor, “I’ve never seen it so....still.”

 

The second floor was usually packed to the brim with healers and trainees running from one end of the hallway to the next to treat patients or see to family members. Hermione usually had to raise her voice to near shouting levels to even be able to hold a conversation, but now even Parvati's whisper seemed too loud for the space.

 

“Maybe they're all on another floor?"

 

“You think they’re all curing rashes on the third floor? I think that’s something they’d delegate to us.” Parvati countered, looking around the empty wing. She pointed her finger at a room down the hall. “I bet they’re in there!” She whispered. “That doors closed!”

 

“Doors are capable of doing that, Parvati. They have been known to work both ways.” Hermione snorted as she opened a file Healer Pye had given her. “Let’s get this all finished so we don’t get in trouble on our last stretch. What rooms were you given?”

 

Parvati flipped through her charts. “Rooms seven, three, and nine.”

 

“And it looks like he gave me the evens then.” Hermione sighed. The even numbered rooms were always the cases no one wanted.

 

“Maybe Healer Pye doesn’t like you as much as I thought.” Parvati smiled as chomped on a piece of candy licorice. “Good luck with curing the dragon pox!” She waved as she walked down the hallway, leaving Hermione standing in the middle of the corridor by herself.

::

 

Parvati had been right, Hermione thought to herself, rounds were boring. She had spent the last two hours going from room to room, talking with the families of patients about the magical maladies their loved ones were inflicted with.

 

She couldn't wait until she became a real healer so she could treat patients who had more than the run of the mill dragon pox. It would make her days far more interesting than they currently were, which she knew was horrible of her to think.

 

Hermione pulled her quill from her bun and began scribbling notes on the parchment. Room seven would need a change of bandages in an hour and--

 

“Hermione!” Parvati yelled from the other end of the hallway, jumping up and down as if that was the only way to get the other witches attention. She quickly crossed the space between them before grabbing onto Hermione’s forearms and shaking her.

 

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked as she pulled herself from Parvati's grasp.

 

“I figured it out!” Parvati sang. In all of her excitement, she didn't seem to notice the warning look on Hermione's face or the way the brown haired witch was using her head to point behind her. “I know whose room everyone is in because--”

 

“Trainee Patil,” Healer Pye cut in, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I do hope you weren’t about to reveal privileged information about a patient.”

 

Parvati audibly gulped. “Of course not, sir. That would be breaking the very first oath we took.”

 

Healer Pye smiled tightly before handing her another set of case files.

 

"Consider yourself on rotation, Trainee Patil. You will see to all of the even numbered rooms for the remainder of your shift. Quite possibly tomorrow as well if you don't prove yourself." He looked over towards Hermione before speaking again. "And you, Trainee Granger, will be assisting Healer Nalker with the patient in room nineteen."

 

"Room nineteen? But that's--" Parvati shook her head and cleared her throat. "None of my concern because I respect our oath and would never reveal patient information."

 

Hermione looked at her strangely before taking the file from Healer Pye and walking down to the other end of the hall. Room nineteen was the same room Parvati had noticed was closed earlier. She knocked twice on the door and pushed it open when she heard Healer Nalker invite her in.

 

Hermione could only see Healer Nalker in the room. The rest of the space was obscured by the heavy black privacy curtains.

 

"Come in and close the door behind you." Healer Nalker waited until Hermione followed her instructions before she reached up and pulled back the privacy curtains. "These are the Malfoys." She pointed to the couple standing at the foot of the patient's bed. "This is Narcissa, the patient's mother, and Lucius, his father."

 

Hermione stood shell-shocked for a few moments before she could get herself to nod her head. She had hardly expected ever to see the pair of them again, let alone their son, and especially here of all places.

 

"It's nice to meet you." Hermione said uneasily. Lucius all but dismissed her the moment she spoke, but Narcissa was staring holes into the side of her face. "I'm Trainee Granger, and I'll be assisting Healer Nalker today."  She used the same introduction she used with every family she met even though she had known this one for years.

 

"Trainee Granger is at the head of her class, and we're looking forward to her graduating and becoming a full-time healer at our hospital. In the meantime, she assists on cases with a healer like myself," Healer Nalker explained. "Trainee Granger come closer to the bed and tell us what the patient is presenting with."

 

It took a moment for Hermione to get her feet to move. She knew she should be treating them like any other family, but that was hard to do given their history. She gasped when she finally made it to Draco's bedside, bringing her hand to her mouth as her eyes traveled over his marred skin.  

 

“You’re sure the girl is trained? Her bedside manner is leaving much to be desired.” Lucius drawled.

 

Hermione blushed. “My apologies, Mr. Malfoy. I wasn’t expecting to see...um, okay, let me start over, please.” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and reached for the clipboard on the bed. “ The patient is Draco Lucius Malfoy. He is presenting with a fever of forty-one degrees Celsius, which is extremely high and very dangerous. His parents have said he’s been in this state since…. September nineteenth.”

 

Hermione gasped again, looking up from the file and over to Lucius and Narcissa.  “That was over two weeks ago. He’s had a fever this high for two weeks? He should be dead.” She murmured, blanching when she realized she had said that in front of his parents.

 

“Are you asking us or telling us, Trainee Granger?”

 

“Trainee Granger why don’t you look at the patient and tell us what you notice.” Healer Nalker cut in. “Make sure not to touch him, please.”

 

Hermione nodded, grateful that Healer Nalker had saved her from further embarrassment.

 

Hermione let her eyes wash over him. He looked different than how she remembered him from their time spent in school. He had always been quite pale, but now there wasn't an inch of him that wasn't red. His chest was marred by tiny bumps that could have been caused by his fever or something else entirely. She couldn't be for certain until she performed some tests.

 

She rounded his bedside and looked down at him.

 

"The patient is exhibiting small bumps on his chest. My initial guess is that his high body temperature is what is causing them. Many wizards with extreme fevers get these, so it's not anything to be concerned about in the grand scheme of things. Our primary concern with the patient, Draco Malfoy, is keeping his body temperature down as the rest will surely follow."

 

“And how do you suggest we do that?” Healer Nalker asked.

 

“Well, his fever is only a symptom of his ailment. We would have to find the source of the infection in order to bring down his fever, but there _are_ some things that we could do to make the patient more comfortable. There is some salve that I could get from the supply cabinet-- it would need to be applied twice a day at approximately the same times. It would keep these bumps from getting any worse than they already are, as well as provide some cooling to his body. It may also help with this bruising over his heart.” She squinted at the mark. “Do we know what’s causing his fever yet?”

 

“We are unraveling that mystery right now, Trainee Granger.” Healer Nalker clapped her hands together. “How about you go and get the salve from the supply closet and apply it to the patient while I take the parents to my office to speak with them privately...unless you find that disagreeable?" She added the last part when she saw the look on Hermione’s face.

 

“No, that’s completely fine.” Hermione paired her lie with a smile she hoped looked pleasant. “I'll go grab the salve.”

 

“Make you sure you wear gloves, Trainee Granger.”

 

She nodded at the three of them before leaving the room. She hardly had a chance to close the door behind her before her body collided with Parvati’s.

 

“Parvati, what the---” She yelled as she pulled herself up from the floor.  “Were you _eavesdropping_?” She whispered fiercely.

 

Parvati slapped over her heart. “Me? Eavesdropping?” She almost looked offended. “ _Obviously_! You were in there with the Malfoys how could I not?” She followed Hermione as she walked down the hall and to the supply closet, holding opening the door as Hermione rummaged through the bins. “What’s that for?”

 

“Malfoy has boils on his chest. They’re probably a symptom of his fever.” She shrugged as they walked back down the hall together. “This should get him to start healing faster. I'm just glad it's not the dragon pox.”

 

“So they told you about him?” Parvati asked as she followed Hermione back down to room nineteen. Parvati stayed by the door as Hermione walked in.

 

Hermione slipped on a pair of latex gloves and squeezed some of the salve on her hand. "I read some of his chart."

 

“Can you believe it then? I haven’t heard of any--” Parvati stopped as Hermione lowered her hand to his chest. “Hermione, stop!" She quickly rushed into the room. “He’s burning...up?” The last word hung in amazement as she watched Hermione push the salve across his chest.

 

“Well, yes, he has a fever.”

 

Parvati walked over and pulled back Hermione’s hand before ripping the latex glove off and inspecting her fingers.

 

“This isn’t possible.” Parvati murmured, running her fingertips across Hermione’s. “You don’t have any burns.”

 

Hermione laughed. “Why would I have burns, Parvati? He only has a fever!”

 

“Because every other healer on this floor has had to use dragonhide gloves any time they’ve touched him.” Parvati stared at her wide-eyed, “You should be screaming right now, but you’re not.” She eyed the curly-haired witch suspiciously before grabbing her wrist and slamming her hand down on Draco’s chest.

 

“Parvati this is disgusting!” Hermione cried out as her ungloved hand came in contact with the thick salve on his chest. She peeled her hand away and ran it down the length of her yellow robes. “You’ve officially gone mad.”

 

“I’m not the one who can touch burning flesh!”

 

“He’s not burning anything! See?” She showed Parvati her hand. “Obviously everyone is overreacting or doesn’t want to touch his boils. I didn’t either, but you clearly gave me no choice!”

 

“Hermione.”

 

“What?” She asked impatiently.

 

She slowly turned around when Parvati pointed behind her. Hermione wasn't sure what she had expected to see when she turned around, but it definitely wasn't him. He was sitting up in bed staring at the two of them, his eyes half-lidded and his breathing labored. 

 

“Malfoy, are you okay?” Hermione asked cautiously. “Do you want me to get your parents or a healer?”

 

He tilted his head at her before he reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer to his bedside. He was much stronger than he should have been and she grimaced in pain as he tightening his hold on her wrist.

 

"Malfoy let her go!" Parvati grabbed his wrist and immediately pulled back with a scream. He looked at Parvati before falling back onto the plush pillows behind him, looking as angelic and unassuming as he had before.

 

“What the bloody hell was that?” Hermione spun around to face Parvati.

 

“You’re going to have to heal my hand, Hermione.” Parvati told her in a strained voice. She turned her palm around and showed Hermione the burn.

 

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. “But--”

 

“Which one of you touched him?” Lucius Malfoy asked from the door. “We have much to discuss.”

 

::

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay, thank you so much for everyone who still held interest in this story even though it was gone for a while :) I hope you like enjoy this chapter x

 

::

 

Lucius Malfoy was every inch as intimidating as Hermione remembered him being during her youth. He was leaning against the doorframe of his son’s hospital room, twirling his long black cane in between his fingers. He looked between the two of them as if he had caught them red-handed and was only waiting for a confession before he doled out their punishment.

“Should I repeat myself, or is one of you competent enough to speak?” He stared at Hermione as he said this, but it was Parvati who was the first of them to break.

“We both did, sir,” She admitted, “We were treating your son’s, um, condition.”

Hermione nodded her head in support. “And now that we’ve done that, we’ll be on our way.”

They made to move past him but were blocked by the cane he extended across the doorframe. He looked over his shoulder to the empty hallway behind him before taking a step towards them, his lips curling upwards into something that resembled a smile when they both took a step back without realizing it.

“What’s wrong with your hand, girl?” He pointed the end of his cane at Parvati who clutched her hand to her chest protectively in response. “Did you get burned?” He asked almost tauntingly.

“I forgot my gloves,” She lied, blinking back tears, “It was my fault. I should have--”

Lucius waved his hand through the air as if to dismiss her. He turned his attention towards Hermione who flushed under his stare.

“And you weren’t burned?”

Hermione shook her head. “I had gloves on, Mr. Malfoy. I’m always careful in situations like these.”

He pursed his lips. “And where are your gloves, Trainee Granger?” He made a show out of looking her over, his eyes stopping on the clearly empty pockets of her bright yellow robes before returning to her eyes.

“In the trash bin, Mr. Malfoy.” Hermione nodded her head towards the bin that was pushed into the corner of the room. “It’s standard procedure to toss them after using them on a patient.”

“Is that so, Trainee Granger?” He watched as she nodded her head in affirmation. “Then you’ll have to explain to me why all of your counterparts have used a cleaning spell on theirs and not a rubbish bin as you claim to have done.”

Hermione blanched. She didn’t know why she lied in the first place, but couldn’t go back on it now that she had said as much.

Parvati broke the tense silence that had fallen over the room with a strangled moan.

Hermione looked towards her and noticed that she had paled drastically over the last few minutes. It could be that the witch was going into shock due to her untreated wound, or, perhaps, Malfoy had infected her with something that was spreading. Either way, Hermione knew she needed to get Parvati to a room to be treated before her condition worsened, and she was the one in a hospital bed.

She hooked her arm around Parvati’s shoulders and took a step towards the door again. “I need to take Trainee Patil to another room to be seen to, Mr. Malfoy, so if you’ll excuse us…” They once again tried to step around him, but he used his body to block their only means of exit.

“One of you, or both of you, is not telling me the exact truth, and I do not like to be lied to.” He stared at them with an expression made out of steel. “You.” He pointed his cane at Parvati. “Or you.” He moved it over to Hermione. “Need to start talking.”

“Lucius, what are you doing?” A voice called from him. “Is it Draco?” Narcissa’s voice was laden with worry as she looked past all of them to the bed. Her shoulders relaxed when she saw her son sleeping peacefully.

“It’s her. She touched him, ‘Cissa.”

Narcissa’s eyes darted to Parvati, her eyebrows knitting together as she noticed the burn on her hand.

“And she paid the price, Lucius.”

“Not her, the other one.”

“The muggle?” She whispered to her husband. A laugh bubbled in her throat at the nod of his head. “Don’t be silly, Lucius, she can’t..she’s not.” She looked over at Hermione whose ears had long since turned a bright red. “You were wearing protection, weren’t you?” Hermione nodded her head. “See, Lucius, you’re mistaken--”

“We need to go,” Hermione spoke up, “Trainee Patil, needs to be healed.”

Hermione let out a relieved breath as Narcissa moved her husband to the side and let them through the door. She tugged Parvati by the arm down the hallway, only stopping at the sound of Narcissa’s voice calling out to her again.

“Trainee Granger, it’s been a...rough few weeks for my family. My husband meant no harm to you or your friend.”

Hermione gave her a polite nod of the head before pulling Parvati into an adjacent room and closing the door behind them. Her head knocked against the hard wood of the door before she let out a long and shaky breath.

“What was that?” Parvati asked. Hermione knew it was a rhetorical question, but she shrugged her shoulders in response anyways. “He looked ready to hex us.”

“Or worse,” Hermione said, pulling a chair over to the bed Parvati was sitting on. “Have us put on probation.”

“One of those things is not like the other.” Parvati snorted. She winced as Hermione turned her hand over to inspect the burn that covered it. “This hurts so badly,” She whined, “I don’t understand how you were able to touch him and come out unscathed and I got this.”

“The salve.” Hermione explained easily. She reached into a nearby cabinet and pulled out another pair of latex gloves. “There was a good layer of it on his chest before you assaulted me.” She looked at Parvati darkly. “Clearly it protected me from whatever about him did this to you.”

“Do you honestly think that a bit of healing paste kept you from getting burned?”

“What else could it have been?” Hermione pulled a small notepad from the pocket of her robe and flipped through it, stopping on the page that she needed. “Tergeo.” She whispered, holding her wand over Parvati’s injury. Hermione wrinkled her nose. “It’s just as bad as it looks.”

Parvati held her hand as far away from her body as she could. Her burn may have looked bad, but it smelled even worse. “If you know that it was just the healing paste,” She started, using her other hand to plug her nose, “Why didn’t you just tell his father that?”

Hermione shrugged. “Didn’t think it’d matter much to him. He looked like he was going to bend us over and cane us no matter what we said.” She flipped through her notepad again and cast another spell.

“Kink--- _Ow_ , bloody hell, Hermione, a little warning next time, yeah?” She moaned as her skin was stretched, pulled, and tightened.

“You know we only count to three for the sprogs, and you are well past that age.” Hermione leaned over to the counter again and pulled out an assortment of items and put them on her lap. “I’m going to be using a healing accelerant on your hand. It may tingle a bit as I apply it, but you’ll notice that the soreness will start to dissipate over the course of the---”

“I’m not one of your patients, Trainee Granger,” Parvati’s laugh quickly turned into another strangled moan. “You said that it would tingle, not burn!” She tried to pull her hand from Hermione’s grasp, but Hermione kept a firm hold on her wrist.

“I said it _may_ tingle, and that was only to get your mind off of the fact it was _definitely_ going to burn. The longer I talk, the more distracted you are, and the less likely you are to feel the burn,” Hermione told her, “You shouldn’t have interrupted me.”

Parvati watched as Hermione wrapped her hand in gauze. “You learned that from Healer Pye, didn’t you? The two of you are cut from the same evil cloth.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, I picked it up from a book I read in the library. I could lend it to you if you--”

“I would rather work a double shift on the weekend,” Parvati cut in, “But if lending it to me would get you to loosen up in time for your dinner tonight then I suppose you could.”

“Dinner?” Hermione repeated, “What dinner?”

“Your group dinner?” Hermione stared at her blankly. “Our apology for ruining your hen night?”

Hermione slapped her hand against her forehead. “I completely forgot that was tonight. Can we reschedule? Molly wants to come over and talk about centerpieces or table clothes or whatever it is that she’s crafting.” She sighed when she saw the look on Parvati’s face. “Don’t give me that look. I’m appreciative of everything she’s doing for the wedding. I didn’t mean for it to sound like that.”

“I’m sure that’s not what you’ll be saying after I ply you with alcohol tonight.” Parvati smiled, “Send her an owl and tell her that you have to reschedule for next week. Or get Ron to handle it! He can choose a tablecloth by himself.”

“I don’t fancy getting married in Cannons’ colors.” She could actually see Ron choosing the colors of his favorite Quidditch team while she was away. “I’ll try and reschedule with her, but if she sends me a howler, I’m redirecting it to you.”

“And I’ll reroute it to Ginny, and we’ll make a sport out of it. What’s that muggle game called? Hot chocolate?”

“Hot potato.” Hermione corrected with a laugh.

Parvati snapped her fingers. “That’s the one! “

Hermione looked at her amused. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

::

 

Hermione certainly hadn’t meant to drink as much as she already had, but given her exhausting day, and the peer pressure she was currently experiencing, she couldn’t find any other way around it. She brought her glass of wine to her lips as the conversation of the table shifted from whoever Lavender was shagging to Parvati’s hand.

“This?” Parvati showed the table her hand. “ _This_ I got today from a patient.” She whispered this not only for dramatic effect but also because the table next to theirs had always requested they keep it down.

Ginny’s mouth hung open. “Did he bite you?”

“No, worse, he _burned_ me.”

“With magic?”

“No, with his body,” Parvati slurred in response,“I swear it on Merlin.” She added when the group of witches looked at her disbelievingly. “And guess who it was?”

Lavender opened her mouth to offer a guess, but Hermione shushed her before she had the chance.

“Our oath, Parvati.” Hermione reminded her.

Parvati waved her off with her good hand. “Fine. Let’s say we _might_ have a patient on the floor who _might_ have gone to school with us but also might not have.” She went on, much to the chagrin of Hermione. “All the healers on the floor have had to wear dragonhide gloves just to touch him, and the ones who don’t….” She lifted her hand again to show the group her bandage-wrapped hand.

“What?” Ginny gasped, “What’s wrong with him?”

“Don’t know,” She brought her glass of wine to her lips, “No one has said anything about it to us lowly trainees. I figure they don’t know yet and that’s why they keep running around and locking doors around the hospital. I bet it’s some sort of medical mystery.”

“Maybe it’s contagious.” Parvati’s sister, Padma, chimed in. “Maybe that’s why they’re locking the doors. They’re keeping the bloke quarantined.”

Parvati whipped her head around to Hermione. “Maybe it’s contagious!” She repeated. She looked down at her hand and winced.

“Oh, please, Parvati. You’re fine. They wouldn’t let us go in if he was contagious.”

Ginny gasped again. “So it’s true?”

Hermione groaned. She was getting too close to breaking her oath. She would have to stop drinking before she said too much. “No, I didn’t mean--”

“Oh, give it up, I don’t believe either of you! Parvati probably burned herself on a tea kettle again, and Hermione is just getting back at you for dragging her to that fortune teller the other night. They’re just taking the piss, Ginny,” Lavender laughed, “Don’t you think this ‘medical mystery’ sounds too much like the man Madam Monroe was talking about?”

Parvati’s widened as she turned to look at Hermione, shock evident on her face.

“Hermione,” She said slowly, “That’s it! That's exactly what Madam Monroe would happen.” She threw her hand in the air as if it all finally made sense. “Oh my Merlin.”

“Quit it, Parvati. You two are just being cruel.” Ginny pointed her finger at each of the witches. “You know I believe her.” She said sadly. “I can’t even get through to Harry. My brother, your fiancee--” She turned and pointed a finger at Hermione, “Won’t even take messages to him at work. Says he doesn’t want to get in the middle. As if I didn’t put out enough fires that erupted in your relationships in the past," She grumbled, "Your entire relationship is one big forest fire.”

Hermione winced. “Make sure to put that in your maid of honor speech, Gin.”

“Shit, sorry, Hermione. It’s all the drinks,” Ginny apologized looking as guilty as she felt. “You know I didn’t really mean it. You two are great. It’s just..work and Harry and everything. Let’s stop talking about all of this. How’s the wedding planning going? Mum driving you crazy yet?”

“We might need more drinks for this one.” Hermione waved the waiter over with a laugh.

 

::

 

“Mum told me you canceled on her,” Ron mentioned as she stepped into their bedroom, still wet from the shower. “You can’t keep doing that, Hermione, it makes her feel overlooked.”

There was no heat behind his words, but Hermione had known him long enough to know when he was cross at her and trying not to show it. It irritated her to no end. She preferred when they fought like adults instead of pretending like everything was fine like children. Ron never seemed to understand that.

“Don’t scold me...I’ve had a long day.” She ran her towel through her dripping hair, not caring in the least that her hair would be frizzy in the morning because of it. “I already agreed to go to dinner with your sister and the rest of my friends tonight. I’m a good witch, but not even I can be in two places at once, Ron.”

He shrugged. “You could have canceled with them instead is all I’m saying.”

Hermione bit back an aggravated groan as she pulled one of his old Chudley Cannons’ shirts. “I didn’t cancel on anyone. I _rescheduled_ with your mother, which she knows.” They had only sent owls back and forth for thirty minutes during her lunch break. She loved Molly, Merlin knows she did, but the wedding had driven a wedge between them that Hermione hoped would dissipate the moment the vows were over. “The three of us are going to dinner after I get off of work tomorrow.”

“Mum will probably want to cook instead.”

Hermione looked back at him as she lotioned her legs. “And if she heads back into the kitchens, maybe the chefs will let her.” She didn’t mean for that to come out as snippy as it had...she was just tired.She couldn’t explain it. She thought it was the alcohol that was making her feel the way she did, but she had taken a sober up potion the moment she had gotten back to their flat and still felt the same. It was just odd.

  
She slipped into bed next to him, drawing the covers above her shoulders. “I already made a reservation, let’s stick to it, okay?”

 

“Fine,” He grunted, “That’s fine.”

  
::

 

“Is there something you need?” Hermione asked without looking up from the patient chart she was adding notations to. She turned her head slightly when her question was met with nothing but silence. “ Parvati” She huffed in annoyance.

“Nothing,” Parvati said quietly, flipping through the pages of her own chart. “It’s just…” She paused, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was close enough to hear them. “I thought maybe you wanted to talk about last night.” She shrugged one of her shoulders nonchalantly.

“Which part?” Hermione mumbled, “The excess of alcohol or the excess of food? I’m not too keen on talking about either.” She could only hope last night's indulgence didn’t keep her from fitting into her wedding gown.

“Well, luckily for you, neither one of those. Maybe we should talk about what Lavender said last night about how our medical mystery sounds a lot like what Madam Monroe predicted.”

Hermione laughed, thinking she was only joking before her smile fell.”You’re kidding, right? Parvati, that woman is a--”

“A loon, a fake, a rip-off and probably some other things the M.L.E would like to question her for, but what if.. _what if_ \--”

“Not to mention that we work at St. Mungo's, Parvati...we get 'medical mysteries' all the time. Now shush, Pye is coming.” Hermione ran her hands down her yellow robes and smiled at the fast approaching healer. “Good evening, Healer Pye.”

He nodded cordially at the both of them before handing them the files in his hand.

“I’ve assigned you each to a healer for the next few hours.” He said as they looked inside of their files, “Check in with them to see where you should start. It’s up to them to decide if you will be seeing any patients on your own, but I will say that I was impressed by your conduct yesterday.”

“That was the nicest thing I’ve ever heard him say.” Parvati said as she walked Healer Pye walk away. She tucked her file underneath her arm and looked over towards Hermione. “Which Healer do you have? I’ve got Merle.”

“Healer Nalker who is currently in....” She trailed her finger down the file. “Room fifteen."

"So you won't be getting a break for a while." Healer Nalker believed in working lunches. "I'll see you in a few hours.” Parvati laughed before wandering off.

 

::

Hermione knocked on room fifteens open door, entering when she heard Healer Nalker instruct her to do so.

Healer Nalker waved her over to the bed. “Come tell me what the patient presenting with, Trainee Granger. You can never have too much practice.”

“The patient is Rodney Givens,” Hermione started, looking over the file in her hand, “He was admitted to the hospital last week and has been showing signs of Lochness Syndrome. The most obvious indicator is the blue tint of his skin and his elongated neck. He was critical when he was admitted, but his condition has improved and stabilized over the course of the last few days.”

“And what causes Lochness Syndrome?”

“Infection of the skin caused by bacteria in extremely unhygienic swimming areas.” Hermione replied automatically.

“Very good, Trainee Granger,” Healer Nalker smiled, “How do we treat him?”

“Depending on the patient's preference, there is either a cocktail of healing spells that can be used over the course of a week or a potion that, in it’s best case scenario, would take at least twice that. Both are effective and safe, but the patient chose the spell cocktail.”

“You are one of the only trainees who doesn’t use cheat cards when diagnosing patients. I don’t often say this  because I’ve come to learn it puts too much pressure on the shoulders of trainees, but if you keep this up, you’ll be one of the hospitals most prized healers.”

“Thank you, Healer Nalker.” Hermione smiled proudly. She wanted to say so much more but knew Healer Nalker was not one for brown nosing. “Is there anything else I could do for you? Do you need me to make a run to the supply cabinet? I see the patient in room thirteen might need more oil applied to her wounds.”

Healer Nalker slipped off her latex gloves and threw them in the trash bin next to the patient’s bed. “You’re leaving early, aren’t you?” Hermione nodded hesitantly. “Before you leave, see to the patient in room nineteen. Usually, I’d say he could wait until the end tomorrow, but his parents are donors,” She sighed, “Check his chart and note any additional updates on his file.”

“Has he been diagnosed yet?”

“We have an idea we’re pursuing.” Healer Nalker said vaguely.

The look on Healer Nalker’s face told Hermione that she wasn’t going to tell her anymore, so Hermione gave her a curt nod of her head before leaving the room and walking a few doors down to room nineteen.

“Mrs. Malfoy, I’m here to check on your son. ” Hermione announced as she closed the door softly behind her. The older witch didn’t spare her a look as she walked further into the room. “It'll only take a few minutes.” She pulled the clipboard from its holding place on Draco’s bed and flipped through it, noting the changes that had been made in her absence.

Narcissa didn’t look up from the magazine she was reading. “Do whatever it is you need to do.”

“Has he been making any movement lately?” Hermione pulled the quill from the top of her bun and tested it in the corner of the parchment. “Sitting, talking, or anything of the sort?”

“Our son hasn’t woken up since he was afflicted with this fever.”

“He hasn’t woken up at all?”  
  
“No, Trainee Granger, he has not. Unless you know otherwise?” Narcissa replied, looking at the witch in front of her with far more interest than she had before.

“I only ask because patients in states such as your son have been known to open their eyes, or even move slightly from time to time. It would not be out of the ordinary if he had.” She assured her, avoiding the question altogether.

Narcissa closed her magazine and set it to the right. “Is that a ring on your finger, Trainee Granger?” She smiled when Hermione nodded her head. “It’s very humble.”

“My fiancée had it made especially for me, and I adore it, Mrs. Malfoy. ” She tried not to look bothered by the older woman’s comments. “I’m going to use my wand to check his responses to stimuli to see if anything has changed.”  
  
“Very well.” Narcissa watched as Hermione rolled down the covers and tapped twice on her son’s kneecaps. “When did you become engaged, Trainee Granger?” She asked as Hermione scribbled notes on the clipboard. “Consider this small talk with a nervous mother.” She added when Hermione turned to look at her in surprise.

“On my birthday,” Hermione answered, “September nineteenth.”

Hermione turned to look back at Narcissa once more when she gasped. She was at least two shades paler than she was the moment before, and it reminded Hermione of when Parvati burned her hand on Malfoy’s wrist. Maybe Padma was right, Hermione thought in a panic, maybe whatever Malfoy had was contagious and was spreading through close contact. That would change everything.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Malfoy?” Hermione asked gently. She watched as the woman weakly nodded her head and stood to her feet. Narcissa’s steps were shaky, Hermione noticed, but it didn’t make her any less determined to cross the space between the chair she had been sitting on and where she stood. “I think you should take a seat. I’ll fetch a healer.”

Narcissa grabbed her left hand before Hermione made it to the door. Her grasp was gentle but held Hermione in place all the same. “How can this be?” Narcissa whispered as her eyes washed over Hermione’s skin. 

“How can what--” Hermione’s question was interrupted by the sound of knocking on the door. She turned her head and saw Parvati staring at them, her expression curious.

“Ron’s here. Says he’s going to whisk you off to dinner on the back of his broom.”

“Tell him I’ll be out in a moment.” Hermione said. Parvati tipped her head towards Narcissa Malfoy, and Hermione nodded. “Let Healer Nalker there is a code eighty-three in room nineteen.”

Parvati nodded her head if she remembered exactly what the code stood for before she walked away.

“Mrs. Malfoy, how about you take a seat on the chair behind you. Healer Nalker is going to come and speak with you for a little. I think the stress has bogged you down a bit.”

Hermione finally pulled her hand away from Narcissa, but not before the older woman pulled on her fingers trying to hold on. She let out a relieved breath when Mrs. Malfoy sat down without any further complications. Usually, people that were experiencing hysteria were not as easy to corral.

“There’s something wrong with him!” Narcissa suddenly cried.

Hermione turned towards Draco's bed and startled when she saw him convulsing. She reached into her pocket for the tiny silver coin she had been given at her orientation for St. Mungo’s. 

She knew that there wasn’t a healer on the floor who wouldn’t come running when it was activated. She tapped the coin twice with her wand and spun around to face Mrs. Malfoy.

“I thought this would solve it.” The older witch kept mumbling.

“Mrs. Malfoy--”

“Trainee Granger, out now!”

Hermione looked towards the door. “He’s having a--” She stopped herself when she realized she was about to state the obvious. They were healers; they knew what a seizure looked like. She hurriedly walked past them, barely having the time to cross the threshold before the door was slammed behind her.

Hermione took a deep breath and ran her palms over her face. She looked down the hall and saw a glint of red hair by the welcome desk and started to walk towards it, feeling even more tired than she had when she first arrived to work.

::

It wasn’t long into the dinner before Molly Weasley was pulling color swatches from her bag and laying them across the table. They all looked the same to Hermione, if she were being honest, but she smiled politely and listened to Molly explain how the slight differences in between the colors made them unique.

“Mums figured out how to invite at least a dozen more distant cousins I didn’t even know I had.” Ron laughed after Molly excused herself from the table and headed off to find the washroom. “We might need a bigger venue.”

“I’m sure she’ll pick it for us,” Hermione mumbled, bringing the glass of water to her lips. “What? You know she’s been very pushy lately. She’s been showing us color swatches for over an hour when she knows we settled on a scheme days ago.”

Ron laughed. “Blame it on George and Angelina. They wouldn’t get her anywhere near the planning meetings. She’s just trying to make up for lost time.”

Hermione brushed back a stray piece of hair from her face. “And driving us up the wall in the process.” She laughed for a moment before stopping when she realized he wasn’t. “You know I’m only kidding.” _Slightly_. “Your mum has been a--”

“Where’s your ring?”

She looks at him confused. “On my--” She cuts herself off with a curse when she looks down at her hand and sees only a bare finger. She stands up and runs her hands over and inside the pockets of her peacoat. “I must have…” She trailed off as she tried to remember exactly when, and why, she would have taken it off.

“Check your purse.”

“Yes! I probably put it in one of the compartments.” Though it didn’t sound like something she would do.

“No, Hermione, check it because it's smoking.”

Hermione quickly reached down for her bag and pulled the silver coin from one of the zippered compartments. “I’m not on call tonight,” She said more so to herself than to him, “It must be an emergency. Ron, I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He looked up at her with a guarded expression. The last few months had been hard on them. Their schedules often conflicted with each other, which made it hard for them to spend any real time together. Hermione felt guilty, but it wasn’t as if she had known that she would be called in. In fact, she had requested the night off.

“I’ll be back.” She promised again, leaning down to press a kiss on his lips.  
  
“Are you okay?” He asked when she pulled back quickly.  
  
“You didn’t feel that?” Hermione asked breathlessly, pressing her fingers against her lips.  
  
“Feel what?”  
  
“Nothing.” She whispered, giving him one last smile before disappearing down the hallway. 

::

“What’s going on?” Hermione asked Parvati as she pulled on her yellow robes. “Was there an accident?” The last time she was called into the hospital unexpectedly there had been an accident at a Quidditch match.

“It’s Malfoy.”

“Why would there be an all call for only Malfoy?”

“It wasn’t an all call,” Parvati told her, which seemed true, the hall was as empty as it had been when she left with Ron an hour and a half ago. “It was a call for you.”

“Me?” Hermione stuttered, “Why me?”

"He's been having a fit since you left, and they can't get him to calm down. The Malfoys seem to think that you'll be able to do something about it...They're waiting for you down in room nineteen." Parvati looked like she wanted to say more, but didn't.

Hermione looked down the hall and saw Healer Pye poking his head around the corner. They made eye contact, and Hermione found herself walking over towards him.

"Trainee Granger, we need you to-"

"I'm not trained to help with this, Healer Pye! I just started seeing patients by myself only a day or two ago." Hermione rambled. 

"There isn't time to explain the ins and outs of all of this," Healer Pye said quickly, "We need him to calm down before he hurts himself but we haven't been able to get close enough to do that."

Hermione's eyebrows knitted together. "If you can't, what makes you think that I--"

"Trainee Patil insists that you can and have." Healer Nalker stared at her pointedly. 

Hermione's fingertips ghosted over her throbbing temples.

"We don't have time for this, Trainee Granger. You took an oath, yes?"

"Not for this!" Hermione exclaimed, "This..this isn't..this is _insane_."

"Welcome to St. Mungo's." She thought he might have said this with humor in his voice in some other situation, but in their current one, his tone was devoid of it.

"Healer Pye, this is..." She exhaled deeply, "Fine.. just..fine" Hermione conceded. 

She slowly walked into the room and pulled back the privacy curtains from around the bed. She didn't know what they expected her to be able to do that they couldn't, but she rushed over to his bedside and gingerly placed her hands on his shaking shoulders. She expected to feel burning underneath her fingertips, but only felt a coolness that tingled her skin the longer she held on. 

"How are you doing, Trainee Granger?" Healer Pye asked from the door. She didn't know why he bothered; he was close enough to see her. 

"Fine." She answered shakily, "You're going to be okay, Malfoy." She whispered, though it was much more for her sake than his. "You've just got to relax." She used the same words she had heard countless healers use on their patients in the past. She watched in amazement as the shaking of his body died down as was replaced with a series of twitches. "Your mum is around here somewhere, your dad too, they're probably worried sick about you. I'll have Healer Pye--" 

She jumped when his eyes flew open and focused in on her. He reached up a hand and brought it to the back of her head, tugging her down until her ear was by his mouth. He blew hot air on the crook of her neck as he whispered to her, his voice raspy and low. He looked at her like he was expecting her to respond and she almost did until Healer Pye rounded the corner with a set of other healers, each wearing dragonhide gloves on their hands.

"We'll take it from here, Trainee Granger. You need to leave now...before you can't." He seemed to add the last part as an afterthought, and Hermione stared at him in confusion before he walked over and physically moved her off the bed and ushered her towards the door. 

"Wait," She said, wedging her shoe in between the door so that they couldn't close it "How did he--how is any of this possible?"

"Drop the pretenses, Ms. Granger. You know as well as we all do by now." Narcissa Malfoy laughed darkly. Her eyes softened substantially after looking her over and noticing that the brown haired witch across from her was shaking. "He leaned into you....What did he say?" 

Hermione looked over at her, ready to lie, or to downplay what had happened, but found herself unable to. 

"He said I found you." 

 

:: 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeep. I really hope someone enjoyed this x.x. Let me know what you think?
> 
>  
> 
> In unrelated what has Diem been up to news: 
> 
> Currently working on the second chapter to 'The Runaway Bride', which should, hopefully, be up by this time next week. You can keep up with my progress with all of the stories that I write over on my tumblr if you would like :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the support from the last chapter and the story overall! I meant to have this chapter out so long ago but then I ran into some massive writer's block x.x. I hope that you still enjoy the chapter even though it may not be exaaactly what I envisioned when I first sat down to write it

 

::

 

"He's accepted you." Narcissa said quietly, so quietly in fact that Hermione wasn't even sure if the older witch was speaking to her at all. "It's nearly unheard of that they don't, but, on occasion, even the fates have been known to get it wrong. I was hoping, for my son's sake, and my sanity, that this would be one of those times."

 

Narcissa looked disappointed for a moment before the expression fell from her face and was replaced with one that was much grimmer.

 

"I assume that you will be making this transition harder than it needs to be." She pulled her blue robe tighter around her body as she looked Hermione over, none too pleased that the younger witch didn't seem to be paying her the attention she thought she deserved. "Ms. Granger?" Narcissa prodded, aggravation clear in her voice.

 

Hermione pulled her eyes away from the closed door of room nineteen and dragged them over towards Narcissa.

 

"None of this makes any sense," Hermione whispered, "Not what happened tonight or what's happened over the course of the last few days. I don't understand any of this," She said honestly, "I touched him and...I didn’t...I wasn’t burned.” She looked down at the palms of her hands as if she were checking to make sure. “What does he have? His diagnosis, I mean. What have the healers told you?”

 

Narcissa looked as if she were about to laugh and Hermione prepared herself for the sound of it, convinced that it would be tinged with the same coldness that her words were.

 

"It's not what he has, Ms. Granger, it's what he is."

 

Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean ‘what’ he is?”

 

Hermione again looked towards room nineteen as the door creaked open and Healer Pye stepped out. She could tell that he was trying to get her attention, but she ignored him in favor of Narcissa Malfoy.

 

“What is he?” Hermione asked her.

 

“This is not a conversation that either of you wants to have in the middle of the corridor,” Healer Pye interjected before Hermione’s curiosity could be sated. “The walls in St. Mungo's may not have ears, but the trainees do.”

 

Hermione looked to her left and saw the group of trainees standing by the welcome desk. She blushed as they turned to whisper to each other, likely talking about all they had seen and heard so far.

 

“Mrs. Malfoy, if you follow me down the hall to my office, we can discuss the recent changes in your son’s condition.”

 

“Is he okay?” Narcissa asked anxiously.

 

“Better than that, actually. We’ve just started him on a cocktail of potions, and he seems to be responding well to this new method of treatment. But, again, if you’ll follow me down to my office we will--”

 

“What about her?” Narcissa interrupted.

 

“Trainee Granger looks--” _Tired, exhausted, in the midst of a breakdown_ ,  “Like she needs a break before she starts her rounds and I don’t think this is the right time to have the conversation that you might want to have.” He looked at Narcissa pointedly before turning towards Hermione. “Mind your coin, Trainee Granger; you will be called on soon.” He nodded his head at her before ushering Narcissa down the hall.

 

::

 

“Hermione?” Parvati walked into the library cautiously, careful not to bump into any of the stacks of books that lay around the room.  “What are you doing in here?”

 

“Research.” Hermione replied curtly. She didn’t bother to look up from the book she had buried her nose in, choosing to thumb to the next page instead.

 

“On?” Parvati was curious, to say the least. The only people who used the library in St. Mungo’s were the families of patients who wanted to know more about the illnesses that their loved ones had. The trainees had the archives to look through when they were stumped by a case.

 

“The impossible.” Hermione sighed. She ran a hand over her face and through her hair before settling it on the side of her aching neck. “Malfoy’s gotten better.”

 

Parvati’s eyes bulged, and she immediately went to sit next to Hermione on the ground. “How?” She questioned.

 

Hermione handed Parvati the book she had been reading.

 

“Giants, Goblins, Merrows and other magical humanoids,” Parvati read off, “Why are you looking into these?” She laughed.

 

“I’ve been in here for an hour looking into different syndromes that he could have had, and then I remembered what his mum said to me earlier..it’s not what he _has_ it’s what he _is_.”  

 

“What he _is_?” Parvati parroted, “As in he could be something other than a pure-blood? Do you know what sort of scandal that would cause? His family is one of only twenty-eight in Britain that have never even married outside of their blood.”

 

“I know that, Parvati. That’s why what she said didn’t make any sense, but it’s also why I have to believe her...she wouldn’t risk saying that if it wasn’t true.”

 

“Wait until Skeeter hears about this." She watched Hermione closely for a moment before closing the book and handing it back to her." If you’re so curious, why don’t you just ask her?”

 

“Because I’m not sure I want to know the answer,” Hermione admitted quietly, “When I saw him earlier, I was able to touch him, and you were right, I didn’t get burned.”

 

Hermione hadn’t meant to admit that to her, in fact, she meant to erase it from her memory altogether, but she couldn’t help it. She could still feel the coolness of his skin underneath her fingertips.

 

Parvati looked like she was going to say something until a puff of smoke caught her attention.

 

“Your coin is about to set that piece of parchment on fire.” She told Hermione.

 

Hermione jumped to her feet and ran over to the table she had left her coin on. She used the sleeve of her yellow robe to pick it up and drop it back in her pocket.

 

“Take that book with you. I’ll read the rest later!” She said as she ran towards the door.

 

::

 

“Trainee Granger, the Malfoys have invited me to be a mediator of sorts for this conversation. Know that I’m not here in a supervisory role, but here to offer support to you and the Malfoys just as I would any other patient or relative.”

 

“I’m neither of those things,” Hermione reminded him as she settled into one of the rose printed chintz armchairs. "And, with all due respect, I don't know why you’d think I need any support. What’s going on?”

 

"We’re here to discuss what happened between you and the patient. He's made a remarkable recovery, but his condition is still...complicated at best. His long-term recovery is dependent on several factors that are out of our control, but you--"

 

"I've taken care of one of the factors myself," Narcissa interrupted. She reached into the pocket of her blue robe and placed whatever she fished out on the top of Healer Pye's desk.

 

"That's my engagement ring!" Hermione cried out the moment she saw the glimmering stone. "You stole it?" She gasped, "I could have the M.L.E. arrest you for that, Mrs. Malfoy!"  

 

"Doubtful," Narcissa replied, "Context matters, Ms. Granger, and I don't think the M.L.E would care much about petty theft when they find out the reasoning behind it."

 

Hermione gaped at her. "What 'reason' would you have to take my ring from me?"

 

"That is why we called you to the office. Which one of you would like to explain everything to her?” He looked towards the Malfoys expectantly.  

 

“Explain what?”

 

"That your trinket is a piece of a much larger puzzle. It's the key to saving my son."  

 

Though Narcissa said this seriously, Hermione couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up her throat and spilled from her lips.

 

"My ring? My _ordinary_ ring?"

 

"You may have gotten that ring put on your finger by an ordinary wizard, but that is no ordinary ring," Narcissa bristled, "I gather that you know it's magical in nature?" The look on Hermione's face told her she did, "Then you must also know that a ring forged by magic protects the bond that exists between husband and wife and makes it stronger over time."

 

Hermione nodded her head.

 

Molly had told her as much at her engagement party last month, and her research on the ring had confirmed it to be true. At the time she thought it was an interesting tidbit she could one day share with her children, whenever she and Ron decided to have them, but she hadn't thought much about the purpose of the ring since. She couldn't fathom why Narcissa would care about it in the first place.

 

"But you see, Ms. Granger, rings of that nature have their drawbacks too. Despite what we might think, magic is not infallible, nor is it all knowing. The magic in that ring doesn't know when a bond is true or not; it simply does what it was created to do, which is to link the wearers of the matching set together."

 

“And how would any of this be your concern?”

 

"You're lying to yourself if you say you can't see what this all means for you and my son," Narcissa said harshly. "But I will spell it out for you if I must, the rings may not know when a bond is true or not, but the body surely does, and it was my son's that paid the price. Don’t you think it was odd that he fell ill the day you put that ring on your finger, and his ailments all but vanished the day I took it off?”"

 

Hermione gave her no answer.

Not because she was being stubborn, but because she was too lost in her own thoughts to give what Narcissa said much thought. She felt the throbbing return to her head, and she reached up her fingers to massage the pain away. 

 

"Mrs. Malfoy, perhaps we should slow down--"

 

"And I will tell you why, Ms. Granger,” Narcissa said over Healer Pye's continued protests, “Because you are not fated for that Weasley boy, you are--"

 

“--Predestined for another.” Hermione found herself whispering as everything seemed to fall into place around her. She had considered everything that had happened over the last few days to be nothing more than oddly timed coincidences, but what if they were all indicators of something much larger?

 

Hermione ran her fingers across her forearm and felt her pulse quicken just under the oddly shaped mark that marred the skin of her wrist.

 

"I’ve got to...I need to leave." Hermione said suddenly.

 

"She can’t leave!” Narcissa looked towards Healer Pye for support, but he didn’t seem as if he was going to offer her any.

 

"Give her some time, Mrs. Malfoy." Healer Pye said as they watched Hermione close the door behind her.

 

Instead of leaving, as Hermione knew she should, she pressed her ear against the cool surface of the large mahogany door and closed her eyes. She could hear them arguing on the other side if she strained herself enough.

 

"He called for her!" Narcissa ranted, “He _accepted_ her”!

 

Hermione could hear her heels click across the surface of Healer Pye's floor and imagined that she was pacing the room.

 

"That may be true, Mrs. Malfoy, but she has not accepted him, and that, as you know, can not be forced, but given enough time and---"

 

Lucius Malfoy spoke for the first time, his voice tight and grim.

 

"Time is what we don't have."

 

Hermione decided that she had heard enough and turned to walk down the hall. She ignored the curious glances of the other trainees as she passed them, knowing that she would be a topic of their conversation as soon as they thought she was far enough away from them.

 

She had got all the way to the lift before she heard a familiar voice calling her name. She hurriedly pressed the lift buttons, hoping that it would make the doors open before the footsteps got to her.

 

“Hermione,” Parvati breathed out, grabbing onto her shoulder. “Didn’t you hear me calling you back there?”

 

Hermione didn’t reply. She just kept pressing the buttons on the lift.

 

Parvati took a step closer and noticed the tears that were trickling down her cheeks. “Hermione, what’s wrong?” She asked worriedly.

 

“Everything.” She choked out, using the edge of her yellow robes to dab away her tears. "I’m terrified, Parvati."

 

Parvati studied her for a moment before speaking. “Come with me.” She said as the doors to the lift opened.

 

::

 

"I remember you two," He wagged his finger at them as they neared. "You came with the crying girl, didn't you? And now look who looks upset this time around." He smiled disingenuously down at Hermione.

 

"How much is it?" Parvati asked tartly, digging into her coin purse.

 

"I'll let you in for thirty-five because I'm feeling generous." He held out his hand and pocketed the coins she deposited into it. "No refunds today, I'm afraid.” He laughed as he opened the door and let them through.

 

They walked down the hall until they reached the doorway that lead to Madam Monroe.

 

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Hermione whispered, pulling back when Parvati tried to pull her through the door. 

 

Parvati looked at her plainly. "You want answers, yeah? She seems to be the only one who has them. No dusty book in a library is going to tell you as much as her." She pulled Hermione’s arm until they were both standing in the middle of the room.

 

Madam Monroe didn't seem the least bit surprised to see them again. In fact, it looked as if she had been expecting them. She wore the same deep purple robe that she had worn the last time they had seen her and her crystal ball was dancing with images Hermione recognized all too well.

 

"Sit," She waved towards the two chairs next to her. "No, you sit closest to me." She added when Hermione tried to sit at the end of the table. "This is all about you today."

 

Madam Monroe reached for Hermione's hand when she sat down, but Hermione quickly pulled it away and tucked it in her lap.

 

"Are you scared, child?" She smiled when Hermione shook her head. "Then may I see your hand?"

 

Hermione reluctantly pulled her hand from her lap and placed it in Madam Monroe’s. Madam Monroe hummed to herself and used her thumbs to trace down the inside of Hermione’s hand and then down to her wrist where she drew tiny circles.

 

“What answers are you seeking?"

 

Hermione had a list of them when she sat down in the chair, but they all rushed from her mind the moment Madam Monroe asked. 

She bit her bottom lip as she watched the images swirl around in the crystal ball. They were of her and Malfoy when she went into his room earlier that day. She didn’t know how Madam Monroe was doing what she was doing. It was impossible... but, then again, so was everything else that had been happening to her lately.

 

“Is it true then? What you and others have said? We’re bonded?”

 

Madam Monroe nodded. "Fated, bonded, mated..whatever term you prefer. Don’t look so grim, child. This was decided for you long before you came to me, and long before you were even born. Some would consider it an honor to have the fates show them the way. "

 

It was hardly an honor, Hermione wanted to say, but bit her tongue instead. She didn’t come here to argue with her. She came here for answers.

 

“I heard them say that I didn’t have to accept any of this if I didn’t want to,” Hermione told her, “Is that true?”

 

“Partially," Madam Monroe agreed hesitantly, "But, while you may be able to deny the veela bond as long as you want, it can’t be broken.”

 

“ _Veela?”_ Parvati gasped.

 

Madam Monroe looked at Hermione with an expression Hermione couldn't quite place. She tapped the top of the table and Hermione placed her hand there again without hesitating.

 

"Let me tell you your future,” Madam Monroe said softly, “I think you might like what you hear."

 

::

 

Narcissa looked over her shoulder at Hermione before setting her attention back on her sleeping son. She pulled the blanket over his shoulders before addressing Hermione.

 

“Are you coming in?”

 

Hermione nodded her head even though her mind was telling her to turn on her heel and flee. She rose her chin high in the air and walked into the room, stopping at the foot of Draco’s bed.

 

“Is he a veela?” Hermione asked, no longer feeling afraid of the answer.

 

“He’s more than that… he’s my world.” Narcissa brushed back pieces of Draco’s long fringe. “But to you, Ms. Granger, he could be everything. You are already that to him.”

 

“And what if I don’t want to be?” She noticed the way Narcissa tensed at her words and felt guilty for reasons she didn’t want to look into. “What if I don’t want any of this?” Hermione blinked back tears. The day had exhausted her in ways she hadn't felt in years.

 

“Isn’t it cruel that the one person my son needs is the one who doesn’t want him?” She pushed herself up from Draco’s bed. “Is this what you muggles call karma?” Narcissa laughed.

 

Hermione saw Draco stir on the bed and took a step back.

 

“I should go.”

 

Before she could, Narcissa started to speak again.

 

"What is it that you want? Money, or maybe public backing for some doomed cause you've attached to? If I remember correctly, you were quite obsessed with the liberation of house-elves weren’t you?"

 

Hermione blushed. "I don't need anything from you, Mrs. Malfoy."

 

"You must, and you should demand it now because my husband will offer you far less and expect much more in return, I can almost promise you this," She said seriously. "He doesn’t understand your hesitance because he hasn't been on the other end, but I have, and I know what it feels like to watch everything you had planned for yourself--"

 

"--Come to an end." Hermione finished for her.

 

"Become a new beginning." Narcissa amended.

 

Hermione shook her head. "It doesn't feel much like one to me."

 

"These things never do at first," Narcissa hummed, "He's being discharged in the morning," She called out as Hermione neared the door, "Will you come? I'll tell you everything you want to know if you do."

 

“And my ring?”

 

Narcissa sighed heavily. “I will return your trinket to you, provided that you do not put it back on. I’m sure Weasley’s mother would appreciate having it back.”

 

Hermione’s fingers flexed around the handle of the door before she pulled open the door and walked away without saying another word.

::

 

"How are Bill and Fleur?" Hermione shrugged at the look Ron gave her, "We haven't seen them in a while. I'm only curious."

 

Ron buried his head underneath one of his pillows. "Send them an owl and ask." He mumbled. He stretched on the bed, groaning as he did so before he turned over on his stomach. "They'd like that." He said sleepily.

 

Hermione pulled a pillow onto her lap and leaned against the headboard of their bed. "The last time we saw them was on Christmas," She reminisced, "Remember how Molly brought up one of his old girlfriends at dinner? Fleur nearly lost her head at the mere mention."

 

"Mum always knows what buttons to press, doesn't she? Fleur should have never said anything about that pie." Hermione thought he laughed, but couldn't be quite sure as his face was pressed heavily into their mattress. "Fleur was the one he left Agatha for, or so mum claims. She was always quite fond of Agatha. I think it was the red hair."

 

Hermione could only remember meeting Agatha once, and that was years ago. She remembered nothing about her other than how happy she seemed with Bill.

 

"Why did Bill leave Agatha?" Hermione asked innocently, "Your mum made it seem as if they were the perfect match for each other. He loved her, right?"

 

Ron stuck his face out from underneath his pillow. "Maybe, or maybe not. Maybe she was just a placeholder,” He said insensitively, “Because when Bill met Fleur and they started to work together, he felt a 'pull' and he couldn’t stay away from her for long, or so he says." He yawned.

 

" _But_ \--"

 

Ron pulled his hand from underneath his body and used it to point at the window across from their bed. "It's early, so early that it can barely be considered morning," He groaned, "I'm sure you could find a book or something that will tell you more than I can."

 

"Fine."

 

"Hermione." Ron called out half-heartedly as his fiancee pushed herself up from the bed. He watched her walk around the room for a while as she slid on a pair of jeans and rummaged through a dresser looking for a blouse to wear. "You know I've been working long hours."

 

"So have I." She reminded him as she kneeled on the ground in search for the hair tie she had dropped last night. She used both hands to push back her hair and tie it into something she hoped resembled a sensible bun.

 

"You're only training."

 

"Don't diminish my work simply because you don’t see the importance of it." She hated when he did that.

 

"Hermione," He called out again, "Where are you going?"

 

"To find a book or something ."

 

::

 

When Hermione set out to find some more answers, she had promised herself that she was going to find them in the library. It wasn’t until she was outside of the gates of the Malfoy Mansion that she realized that Narcissa Malfoy had been right all along...she was good at lying to herself.

 

She had expected a house-elf to fetch her, but, to her surprise, it was _him_ that walked out of the front door and down the stairs to the iron gates. She knew he had been discharged a few hours ago, but hadn’t expected to see him up and out of bed so soon. 

 

And she would be lying to herself if she claimed not to the feel the warmth that spread through her at the sight of him. It was persistent, and growing, and absolutely terrifying-- and plenty of other words that she was sure she could come up with if she had it in her to do so.

_This_ was the pull, she thought to herself as he held out a hand to her. One that she didn’t know if she should accept or not.

 

“Why is it that I can’t get you out of my head?”

 

::

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, our girl still has some fight left in her :). Until next time x


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made this chapter a little longer than the others because it's been nearly a month since last update x.x. I do have to warn you that this chapter is a little ( okay...a lot) heavy on the drama so if that's not your thing you may want to sit this one out ;)
> 
> Either way, I hope you enjoy x

 

 

::

 

Hermione remained quiet, not trusting herself enough to offer an answer that wouldn’t back her into a wall somehow. The Malfoys were smart, smarter than most, and she didn’t doubt for a second that they could, and would, find a way to twist her words to their benefit if given even half the chance.

 

She would just have to be smarter, more cunning, she thought to herself, raising her chin bravely and setting it so she was looking him directly in the eyes.

 

They were gray, which was odd because she had always remembered them as being blue. There was something in her that decided that she didn’t like not knowing something about him, so she allowed her eyes to dance about the other parts of his face, drinking in the details she had missed over the years, the ones that made him uniquely him.

 

He had a scar above his eyebrow, a few moles that dotted down his neck and hid behind the collar of his expensive blue shirt, and his face was made up of sharp angles and points that she wanted to reach out and trace with her fingers so she could commit them to memory.

 

And she did so, for a moment, until the feeling of his breath underneath her fingers had her pulling away her hand like she had been burned. He didn’t react to this, simply rocked back on his heels and stared down at her with an intensity that sent little sparks running up and down her back.

 

Had he always been able to do that, she wondered.

 

She kept her hand away from his when he made to take it, stuffing them both deep inside the pockets of the jacket she had thrown on before apparating outside of his estate.

 

Hermione had a theory that being this close to him was doing something to her. _Intoxicating_ her. She certainly felt like it was getting harder to breathe by the moment. But he, for his part, looked contained, and if it weren’t for the way his fists were clenching at his sides, she would think he was completely unaffected.

 

“Sorry.” She murmured, not seeing any other way to break the tense, and awkward, silence that had fallen over them.

 

“For touching or pulling away?” He asked in a low voice, one that rumbled deep in his chest, and one that she was sure, positive even, she had never heard from him before. “Because if it’s touching that you’re thinking about apologizing for, just know that I am yours to explore.”

 

There was a challenge dancing in his eyes, and in the playfulness of his tone, but she didn’t take it, too consumed by the words he had spoken. _I am yours_ rang loudly in her head, and it took everything in her not to offer the same ones back to him.

 

“Stop.”

 

He looked at her as if he were considering her request before he shook his head, the corner of his lips lifting upwards into a familiar smirk.

 

“And what if I don’t want to?” His tone was light and teasing and didn’t at all match the way he was looking down at her. “What then, Granger?”

 

There it was, she thought to herself, he _was_ doing something to her, and she could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t going to be persuaded to stop no matter what she said.

 

He had always been that way. Selfish and self-serving and egotistical, and it was becoming painfully obvious that the ties that bound them together weren’t going to change that about him. He was still _him,_ and she was still _her_ , and it didn’t make a lick of sense how something that was clearly so wrong felt right to her....at least right now.

 

Ron was so different than him, and it would make more sense if it were him that she was feeling this warmth, these butterflies, for. Ron was...he was...

 

Hermione shut her eyes tightly. The feeling of warmth that had been pricking at her skin and reddening her cheeks was washed away by the cold feeling of guilt. 

 

She took a deep breath, releasing it with a sag of her shoulders. She shouldn’t be here, and she knew it.

 

She shut her eyes again, and when she opened them he was staring down at her, his eyes now as dark and intense as the clouds that stormed above their heads.

 

“I hate to interrupt, Draco,” His mother called from the front door, “But I sent you outside to fetch Ms. Granger, not have her standing with you out in the rain. It wouldn’t do to have her get sick, would it?”

 

Before her son could answer Hermione had already brushed past him and walked up the stairs that led to the front door of the Malfoy Mansion. She smiled tightly at Narcissa as the older woman held the door open to her, though it fell when Narcissa motioned towards a house-elf that was standing dutifully by a coat rack.

 

“I am more than capable of---”

 

“Teacup will take your coat, Ms. Granger,” Narcissa interrupted, having no time, or will, to argue the subject with her, “You _will_ upset her if you refuse. She enjoys these mundane tasks much more than you, I can assure you.” She added when Hermione made no move to hand over her jacket to the waiting house-elf.

 

Hermione sighed before walking over to Teacup, leaving Narcissa to greet her son at the door. She grabbed him by the forearm and looked at him with what he knew to be a warning.

 

“Don’t play with her, Draco.” Narcissa said, her voice only a breath above a whisper.

 

“Who says I’m playing, mother?”

 

“Back a mouse into a wall, and it will find a hole to hide in, and I daresay the mouse you have chosen is smart enough to never be found again.” She looked at him pointedly. “Your potion has been readied and is on your desk. Go take it before you scare your mouse off.”

 

She looked at him one last time before walking over to Hermione.

 

“Ms. Granger, follow me upstairs to the library, and I will tell you all that you want to know.”

 

“You have your own library?” Hermione asked in shock. She was used to Mansions like these coming with their own sprawling studies, but she had never seen a personal library before.

 

“Of course.” Narcissa smiled.

 

Hermione followed her up the winding staircase and down one hall after the next until they reached two open doors. Narcissa motioned for her to enter and she did so, her jaw dropping at the amount of books that lined the shelvings against the wall.

 

“This is marvelous.” Hermione breathed out in wonder. She walked up to one bookcase and trailed her fingers across the spines of at least a dozen books. "I haven't seen a collection this big outside of a real library." 

 

Hermione turned her head to the side and saw a large mural covering the entirety of one of the walls. It was a tree, and each limb had small portraits hanging from them with inscriptions that she had to take a step closer to see.

 

“Is this your family tree?”

 

“It is.” Narcissa hummed in reply, watching as Hermione brushed her hand against the wall.

 

“What happened here? This person's been blacked out.” She pointed to one of the pictures. “What did they do?” She could only assume that most of the Malfoy family had been up to no good at some point in their lives, but no other portrait had been blackened.

 

“She, like you, was mated into our family but, unfortunately, she brought with her a storm that her mate was not able to withstand. As such, we don’t speak of her often.” Narcissa stared at her quietly for a few moments. “We hope that you won’t bring the same storm because we would not be able to weather it any better.”

 

Hermione looked over her shoulder at Narcissa.

 

“Did she leave him?”

 

 “We don’t talk about her anymore, Ms. Granger,” Narcissa said again, “I will say that while you are not who I would have chosen for my son, you are the one the fates gave us, and I will honor that bond just as my mother and father did. I can only hope that you, unlike the woman on that wall, will treat your bond with as much care.”

 

Hermione wondered about her own parents and if they would ever be able to understand any of this. The magical world was still foreign to them, and the few times they had asked about it had left them with more questions than she had answers for. Some things just _were_ in this world that was impossible in theirs. This was just another one of them.

 

Hermione shrugged off her backpack and unclasped it, reaching inside for the book she had taken from St. Mungo’s library.

 

“This is the only book I could find on veelas that wasn’t based entirely on lore.” Hermione handed Narcissa the tattered book. “There isn’t much literature on them.”

 

“Our personal library has more than just this, but I will answer your questions as best as I can before tasking you to reading through them all. Come, sit.”

 

They talked for what felt like hours, but Hermione knew it must not have been because the sun was still in the same spot when Narcissa stood up from the chaise and brushed the wrinkles from her dress.

 

“That one, I don’t have the answer for, but you might be able to find it in one of these books.” Narcissa walked to the bookshelf and pulled out two books and handed them to Hermione. “Lunch is in a half an hour. Will you be staying with us?”

 

Hermione nodded her head even though she knew she shouldn’t. She was sure Ron was waiting on her with a half thought out apology, but...he could wait. She only needed a little more time.

 

“I will send Teacup up to fetch you when it’s time.”

 

“Thank you.” Hermione murmured. She opened one of the books and flipped through the pages until she landed on the index. 

 

“You look at home here.” Draco was leaning against the doorframe of the library, and she could only wonder how long he had been standing there watching her. 

 

“I’m not.” 

 

“You could be.” He said, pushing himself off of the door and walking into the room. He lingered a few spaces from her, unsure of if she would allow him to sit next to her after how he had played with her outside. “You’re better here with me, than with him.”

 

Hermione laughed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t even really think that, it’s the pull that’s making you believe that I am anything to you other than what I was back in school.”

 

“The pull?”

 

She looked up at him, exasperated. “Haven’t you done any reading at all?” She didn’t like the amused way he was looking at her. “I mean it, you have all these books, and you clearly haven't looked into anything.”

 

He hummed deep in his throat. “I don’t need a book to tell me that you’re mine.”

 

“I am _not_ yours.”

 

“Then whose are you?” He challenged, “You’re not his.” His eyes flashed in a way she had never seen from him before. She had seen him angry, had made him angry more times than she could count, but this...this was different.

 

“You’re right,” She agreed, “I’m _not_ his. I belong to no one, and that will never change.” She stood up and stormed past him, careful not to brush against him.

 

He watched as she quickly went down the stairs and grabbed her jacket off the coat rack his house-elf had hung it on. He heard his mother calling after her, but she didn’t stop, only picked up the pace until she reached the door, wrenching it open and closing it loudly behind her. His witch had quite the temper, and he wouldn’t pretend to not like it.

 

“Draco,” His mother called out, “What did you do?”

 

He smiled at her guiltly. “I pushed.”

 

::

 

“Hermione!”

 

Hermione didn’t have to look far to find the source of that voice because Parvati came barreling towards her before she even had the chance to turn her head. The dark-haired witch threw her arms around Hermione and pulled her in for a tight hug, refusing to let go even as Hermione pleaded for her to.

 

“ _Parvati,_ ” Hermione managed to squeeze out, “You can let me go now.”

 

“Never.” Parvati whispered dramatically, pulling her in tighter.

 

“People are _staring,_ Parvati,” Hermione whispered harshly as she tried in vain to pull herself out of Parvati’s hold. “It’s only been a few days since you saw me last.” She reminded her.

 

Parvati pulled back but only far enough so she could look Hermione in the eyes. “There have been rumors,” She whispered, “Nasty ones,” She said even quieter, “About the Malfoys locking you up in a tower like a little muggle princess. Blink once if--”

 

“Let go, Parvati, I've got to do rounds.” Hermione finally freed herself and stepped towards the welcome desk, looking through the files to find the ones that had been marked with her name. “No one’s been keeping me anywhere,” She told her as she felt in her pocket for a quill. “I had some leave saved up and I thought I could use a break.”

 

“And you couldn’t answer owls?”

 

“No one answers owls while they're taking a holiday.”

 

“You do.”

 

“Ron doesn’t.”

 

Parvati’s eyes went wide. “You two….you didn’t?”

 

“Didn’t what?” She followed Parvati’s line of sight and realized the witch was looking at her ring finger. “No, we didn’t. I...we needed some time to ourselves, that was it.” She couldn’t understand why the witch was making such a big deal about it. It wasn’t as if Parvati wasn’t known for taking a break, or two or three, when she needed.

 

Hermione wasn’t sure how it was possible, but Parvati’s eyes went even wider.

 

“You told him?” Parvati whispered. She followed after Hermione as the witch started to walk down the hallway. “After we went to see Madam Monroe again you said that you would have to tell him about being Malfoy’s m--”

 

Hermione grabbed Parvati by the arm and pulled her down towards the supply room, pushing the witch in and following behind her.

 

“Have you gone mad, Parvati?” Hermione hit her in the shoulder with the folder she was holding in her hands. “Do you think the entire floor needs to know every sordid detail about my life? Especially _that_?” She knocked the folder against her own forehead before setting it down. “This is hard enough without having to deal with all the whispers, which apparently have already started.”

 

“Not because of me.” Parvati put both of her hands up at the accusatory look Hermione was sending her. “No one thinks the Malfoys have kept you locked up,” She admitted, “That was mostly me when I hadn’t heard back from you in _days_. The others are just blowing smoke out of their arses. You know how rumors are, they change slightly every time they get passed down to someone else. I heard yesterday from Kim that you’d run off with Malfoy after getting into a row with his mum outside of his hospital room.”

 

Parvati laughed and looked as if she truly believed Hermione was going to join in before she stopped herself with a hum.

 

“Did you tell him or not?”

 

“Do you think I’d drag him away from work to tell him something like that?” Hermione said exasperatedly, “We haven’t been getting along lately, not because of...we just haven’t been getting along, and I thought that if we got away for a little then he’d see it too.”

 

“And?”

 

“And….nothing.” Hermione reached up to a shelf and pulled down a healing balm, “He doesn’t think that anything's wrong. He’s as happy as ever.”

 

“While you aren’t.”

 

Hermione sighed. “Parvati, drop it.” Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m going to tell him about...about everything because I have to. I feel guilty whenever I look at him because I know this isn’t something I can keep from him...but not now.”

 

“Then when? Hermione, you’re supposed to be getting married in a few weeks. Don’t tell me you plan on trying to walk down the aisle?”

 

“This isn’t easy for me! Do you think _you’d_ be able to sacrifice the future you had planned for _years_ in the blink of an eye? Or walk away from someone who you’ve been with for just as many? It’s not fair, none of this! And you all expect me to do it on your timeline to make you happy, but what about me?”

 

“Hermione--”

 

“No, Parvati, _no_. I’m tired of being lectured and patronized. I am _not_ the bad guy. _I_ am the one being pushed and pulled in all of these directions and who is expected to smile through it because of some mark on my wrist. I will tell Ron when _I’m_ good and ready and not a minute more.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay.” Hermione repeated. She straightened her back and wiped at her eyes. “I’m going to rounds.” She said as steadily as she could.

 

She didn’t look back at Parvati as she pushed open the door and walked to the end of the hallway.

 

::

 

“Healer Granger?” A voice called out hesitantly from the bed.

 

“I’m not a healer yet, Ms. Clark. I’ve still got another month or so.” Hermione smiled at the women on the bed. “How are you feeling this afternoon?” She asked, walking towards the bed.

 

“How do you think?” Ms. Clark motioned to the bandages on her body.

 

“They’re only there to get you to keep you from scratching. The dragon pox is out of your system, but it didn’t leave before inflaming your skin.” Hermione set the ointment on the counter next to the bed. “You’re healing quite nicely though. You won’t have so much as a scar from this, which I know you were worried about.”

 

She sighed in relief. “When do I get to leave, Healer Granger?”

 

“Has your healer not talked to you about that?” Hermione asked, “It should be on your chart.” Hermione walked to the edge of her bed to look for her chart but didn’t find it.

 

She pinched the bridge of her nose when she remembered that she left it inside of the supply room when she was grabbing the ointment. “I’m going to check your discharge date, and I’ll be right back.” Hermione promised.

 

She gave the woman one last smile before walking towards the door.

 

“I thought I left it right here.” Hermione whispered to herself when she walked into the supply room and saw no sight of the folder.

 

"Are you looking for this?" 

 

Hermione bit back a groan. It would be just her luck that Healer Pye, out of all the healers on the floor, would be the one to find the chart.

 

“Yes, actually,” Hermione said as she clasped her hands in front of her body. “The patient in room twenty, Ms. Clark, wants to know when she’s going to be discharged from the hospital.”

 

“I’ll have another trainee let her know.” He stepped outside of the supply room and motioned for a passing trainee to walk over, handing them the chart when they got close enough. “Take this down to room twenty and inform the patient of her discharge date.”

 

“I told her I would be right back,” Hermione said, “Ms. Clark doesn’t like surprises or new people. If you look at her chart, it indicates that she can become agitated quite quickly and I don’t think that--”

 

“When you become a healer, you can tell me all about the things you think, but for right now, Trainee Granger, I will tell you what to do instead.” He waited to see if she would say more before continuing. “Head down to my office.Someone is waiting to speak with you.”

 

“Who?”

 

He looked at her as if she should already know the answer.

 

“Draco Malfoy.”

 

Hermione’s mouth fell open in shock. “Since when do personal visitors supersede rounds?” She asked, though she knew Draco couldn’t possibly be here to visit her as much as he was to harass her.

 

“They don’t, but exceptions have been known to be made on a case by case basis, and this is one of those.” He told her.

 

“He couldn’t have sent an owl?”

 

“I was told you were avoiding those and coming here was the only place he knew to find you.”

 

“Hardly,” She denied, “I’ve just got back and hadn’t had the chance to go through all of the post that accumulated while I was gone, but that doesn’t mean he can track me down at work and have my supervisor force me to see him whenever he wants!”

 

“Give him two or three minutes, and then you can return to your rounds,” Healer Pye told her, “And I will send word to him, as well as his parents, that they are not to make a habit out of this, as they will be denied these requests in the future.”

  
Hermione looked at him stubbornly before walking down the hall to his office.

 

::

 

“Where have you been?” Draco asked the moment she walked through the doors.

 

“You don’t get to track my whereabouts. I can very well do as I please.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared back at him, refusing to shrink under his glare.

 

“No.”

 

Hermione stared at him. “What do you mean, _no_?” She asked, “Nevermind, Malfoy, I’m not interested. Not even a full minute in and I’m already ready to leave.” She turned and walked towards the door she had just entered.

 

“I can’t go this long without seeing you.” Her hand stalled on the doorknob, and she looked over her shoulder at him. “It hurts, Granger.”

 

She had to admit that this was the most vulnerable she had seen him look since she was looking down at him in his hospital bed.

 

“Three days,” Hermione said, “It’s been only three days.” She looked him over and noticed that he did seem paler than she remembered him being, and his eyes had dark circles that could usually be attributed to not sleeping well or at all.

 

“And each one has been draining, even more so because I know who you’ve been with.”

 

“I feel perfectly fine.” She didn’t mean for her words to come out as coldly as they did, but her intentions didn’t seem to matter because he shrunk back from her as if she had purposely tried to hurt him.

 

“Well isn’t that great for you, Granger,” He spat out, “You get to play house with Weasley while every touch you give him burns me. Tell me, did you think about me while you--”

 

Hermione didn’t bother to listen to the rest, pulling the door open and storming out. He was  _vile,_ and that was just another thing about him that didn’t, and wouldn’t, change.

 

“Granger, wait!” He called out after her. It wasn’t until his hand wrapped around her wrist that he was able to get her to stop. “I came here to apologize.”

 

“Then you have a remarkable way of apologizing, Malfoy.” She tried to shake loose of his hold, but he only tightened it. She looked around the small hallway and felt relieved that it was empty. At least this would not be another piece of gossip that would be spread through the hospital. “Let me _go.”_

 

“Just listen, Granger, I---” He stopped himself as he looked over her shoulder, his eyes locking on a fast approaching redhead. “Weasley.” He ground out.

 

“What?” Hermione tried to turn around and to look down the hallway, but his hold on her grew tighter and tighter, “You’re hurting me!”

 

“Get your hands off of her, Malfoy!”

 

“And if I don’t want to?” Draco taunted when the redhead got closer, “What if she likes when I touch her?”

 

“Malfoy!” Hermione cried out. She tried to turn and face Ron. “Ron, give us a second and--”

 

The next few moments happened in a blur. One moment Draco was still holding her by the arm and the next she was being pushed against the wall on the other side as the two men went at each other. She had read about this in one of the books in the Malfoy library, this was when the veela male asserted his stake on--

 

“Stop!” Hermione cried out when they both reached for their wands. “Don’t hurt him.” She didn’t know which one of them she was talking to, or about, until Ron trained his wand on Draco. “Don’t hurt him, Ron.” She pleaded as she rushed out to stand between the two of them. She placed her hand against Ron’s chest and pushed lightly. “Don't hurt him.”

 

“Don’t hurt him? He was just...” He looked between the two of them suspiciously. “What’s going on between the two of you?”

 

Draco cradled his cheek with one hand. “Yes, Granger, do tell.”

 

“Hermione?”

 

“I don’t know,” She said helplessly, “I don’t know.”

 

“Find me when you do. Happy anniversary, Hermione.” He growled before stalking off.

 

Hermione ran her hand through her hair before she made up her mind to follow after him. She had to tell him now. She couldn't let him think--

 

“Where are you going?” Draco asked.

 

"He needs me." She said before following after Ron.

::

 

Someone was knocking on her front door and she was set to ignore it until the sound grew louder and louder. Hermione pushed herself up from the sofa and walked to the door, her hand hitting the hallway light on the way. She stood on her tiptoes and looked through the peephole, sucking in a deep breath when she saw the top of a platinum blonde head.

 

She wanted nothing to do with him. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not _ever_. Or so she kept telling herself as she watched him pace in front of her door.

 

She jumped when he seemed to make eye contact with her, holding her breath as if he could hear her on the other side of the door.

 

“Granger, open up. Your wards are worthless, and it would only take me a second to knock them down. I thought knocking would be more cordial, but I won’t stand out here all night.”

 

She didn’t set the wards around the flat, that was always Ron’s job, but she wouldn’t tell him that, didn’t think he needed any more ammunition against him. She turned the locks, but only opened the door far enough that her head could fit out of it.

 

“What do you want?” Nothing good, she was sure. “I don’t want you here.”

 

He pushed the door open easily, ignoring her sound of indignation as he wandered into her space, looking around as if he were waiting on something.

 

“Is he around?”

 

“You’re here to have another go with him?” Hermione asked with a humorless laugh. “The lights on in the kitchen because _I_ turned them on, Malfoy. He’s not hiding in the cabinets. He’s gone.”

 

“Gone?” He looked at her and drank her in, finally seeming to notice how exhausted she looked with her hair piled haphazardly on the top of her head and her eyes red and puffy. He took a step closer to her, and she took one back. “What did he do?”

 

“ _Him_?” A laugh bubbled deep in her throat. “ _He_ hasn’t done a thing. I had to tell him about everything because of what _you_ did today. And the worst part is that he didn’t even believe me, thought I was lying about it, trying to cover up some sort of affair between you and me with some crazy story.” She shook her head. “But it doesn’t matter," She smiled sadly, "Because I still had to break his heart and watch him leave.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Good?”

 

“Better his than mine.”

 

“What is wrong with you?” Hermione yelled, “Do you only think about what you want, or what’s good for you? You don’t care about anything or anyone else, you never have!”

 

She continued on, and he just let her, watching her passion spill from her lips even though each word seemed to be an accusation thrown at him. This was _his_ witch. All fire and passion and heat and he was glad, over the moon really, that he would never have to share this part of her with anyone else again.

 

“Are you even listening?” Hermione threw her hands in the air, “This is a curse.” She showed him her wrist and the tiny mark on it that made her his. She missed the way his eyes narrowed as she turned her back to him, pacing the small space of her living room. “I would do anything to get my life back. _Anything_. I loved him, and I feel _nothing_ for you.”

 

“Nothing?”

 

Hermione turned around to repeat it to him but her words were lost to a yelp when he reached out and grabbed her, pulling her to him with such force that her body crashed against his. She staggered backwards, but he followed soon after, sending out one hand to her waist and the other one to her chin, tilting it upwards and bending down to cover her mouth with his.

He explored her.

Biting, sucking, and laving at her neck before returning to her mouth and nipping at her lips, swirling his tongue around hers the moment she opened up and _playing_ with her; teasing her in a slow and torturous way that sent heat spreading through her body.

 

“Nothing?” He repeated, pulling away just a hair's breath before pressing another kiss against her lips, this one more innocent than the last, “Nothing?” He asked again pressing another kiss and another one and another until she found she wasn’t counting anymore.

 

She nearly groaned when he stepped back from her, his eyes dark and beautiful, and she wondered what she would have to do to make them grow even darker.

 

“If that’s nothing, Granger, I’ll take it.”

 

He looked at her one last time before he turned and walked back out of her door, leaving her standing there, breathless.

 

::

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really nervous about writing this chapter. Hopefully it paid off......?!?!? Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a light to medium amount of drama this time ;). 
> 
> Thank you all for being so patient with me as I try and get updates written and out to you. I hope you enjoy x

 

::

 

She dreamt of him that night.

 

Of the feeling of his fingers dancing across her skin, pulling her closer, demanding her attention until she knew nothing but the taste of him. All the while his mouth busied itself with writing love letters to the freckles on her skin, distracting her enough that she didn’t feel the nip at her neck until the feeling of fire soared through her.

 

Hermione woke with that same feeling of fire coiled deep inside of her body. She sucked in two ragged breaths and reached up a shaking hand to feel at her neck to make sure her dream had been just that...a dream. When she was satisfied there was no mark on her neck, and thus no evidence that _he_ had been there, she turned her head towards her alarm clock and leaned back deeper into the pillows behind her.

 

This, she knew, was going to be a long night.

 

::

 

Hermione woke to the sound of muffled cursing coming from another room. She quickly sat up in bed and swung her legs over the before reaching to her nightstand for her wand. No one, she thought as she crept from her room, was supposed to be there but her, which meant that--

 

“Ron?” She asked at the sight of his fiery red hair.

 

His back tensed at the sound of her voice and she knew, even without being able to see his face, that his jaw was clenching.

 

“Ron.” Hermione repeated, her voice louder and without the grogginess that had tainted it before.

 

He didn’t seem to want to speak with her at all, choosing instead to continue to move picture frames and vases, the ones his mum had bought them when she was off on holiday, into boxes that had ‘ _Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes_ ’ written on the sides in sprawling lettering.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

He laughed, bitterly she noted, before tapping his wand on one box and standing back to watch as it folded itself together.

 

“What does it look like, Hermione?” He asked her as he finally, _finally_ , turned around to face her. 

 

Her stomach tied in knots at the sight of him.

 

He looked tired, just as she imagined she did, but his tiredness stretched over his entire body, weighing his shoulders down and making his movements heavy as he walked towards and then around her.

 

“Like you’re making a mistake. You can’t leave.” She thought about reaching out to him but decided against it at the last moment, fearing his reaction. “Unpack, Ron, take all of it out of those boxes and put it all back.” He turned to face her, and she knew the look on his face. Hopeful and vulnerable and just him. “I’ll leave. I’ll..I’ll go.”

 

Ron looked at her, shocked.

 

Like her words were not the ones he had expected her to speak, and she wondered if that was the moment she was supposed to fight for him, to make proclamations and grandstanding promises about their future together like one of them did every time the other was getting ready to storm out.

 

But this was not like every other time. And this was not every other fight on any other day. This was different.

 

“This is your flat, Ron, you should stay,” Hermione added, “I can’t afford it anyways, not on my salary.” She laughed to try and lighten the mood, but she could tell by the narrowing of her eyes that she had failed.

 

He laughed bitterly again. “Is that why you’re leaving me then? I never figured you as a witch who ran after money.”

 

Hermione let his comment roll off of her back.

 

“You’re hurt.” Another laugh from him at her expense. Hermione sighed. “Do you want to talk about this?” She asked, “I’ll leave right after, I promise.”

 

“I told you yesterday that I won’t talk to you until you can tell me the truth.”

 

Hermione threw both hands in the air. “I am telling you the truth,” She practically yelled in frustration. They had talked in circles yesterday until they both ended up yelling, and he left without her feeling like either of them had gotten the answers, or closure, they needed. “I’m not lying about this. Why would I?”

 

“Because you got caught,” He spat out, “And you’ve always been able to talk your way out messes, but you’re not going to do that here. Not with something as ridiculous as--”

 

Hermione rolled up the sleeve of her robe and showed him her wrist, pointing to the mark that had, as of last night,  changed colors.

 

“Do you know what this is?” She asked despite knowing his answer had to be yes. 

 

He would have seen a similar one on his brother before. And maybe back then it wouldn’t have meant much to him, but now, she hoped, he had to be connecting the dots. 

 

“I can’t help what’s happened. If I could, I would have by now.” Hermione said softly. 

 

Ron stared at her mutely, before inhaling and exhaling deeply.

 

He looked like he was trying to put together a puzzle and was left with two pieces that didn’t fit together. She knew that feeling. 

 

“How long have you known?” He asked after the seconds had dragged into minutes and Hermione felt like she was only one more away from suffocating.

 

“The night of my hen party, but I only knew for certain when--”

 

His eyes shot to the top of his head. “You’ve been lying to me for--”

 

“I haven’t lied, Ron--”

 

He pointed his finger at her accusingly. “Omission of the truth is still a lie.” She had told him that many times over the last few years and it was ironic now that they were being tossed back at her. “Going over colors, deciding on food, planning a bloody wedding all the while you _knew_ \--”

 

“I didn’t know.” Not for certain, anyways, but she didn’t think that make much of a difference to him now. “Would it have mattered if I had told you  earlier?”

 

“Yes,” He laughed, “Because at least then I would recognize something about you,’’ He told her,"Because this--” He waved his hand from the top of her to the bottom of her feet.  “I don’t recognize any of this. You're a stranger to me.”

 

Hermione nodded her head, backing away from him until she reached the hallway that led to their bedroom. She closed the door behind her, and knocked her head against it, breathing in deeply to try and calm her nerves.

 

It was hard not to feel horrible after what he had just said, but in some way she deserved it, or, at least, she thought she did. She had the opportunities to tell him and chose not to every time because she either wasn’t ready to face the truth or wasn’t ready to see it actualized.

 

If she had just been honest, they would have had the time to process it all together, sit down with their families and just talk...and maybe, she thought, he was so upset because she had robbed him, and them all, of that chance.

 

And she could understand that feeling in a way because if their roles had been reversed, she knew she would be just as upset as him. Not because he was someone else's mate, but because he had kept her in the dark about it.

 

Hermione rolled her neck from one side to the other and used her fingers to massage away the soreness from her aching muscles.

 

She would make this right, she promised herself. She had to. 

But first, she thought as she went to their closet and grabbed a piece of luggage, she would give him the space he needed.

 

::

 

“Mum.” Hermione could barely breathe due to the death grip her mother had her in, but she still smiled against her mum's shoulder as she pulled her in even closer. She had missed this, and, admittedly, it had been far too long since she had taken the time to come home. “I missed you.” She smiled up at her, pressing a kiss on her cheek.

 

“Don’t let your dad hear you say that you know he likes to think he’s your favorite.” Jane Granger laughed, finally pulling far enough away to give her daughter a once over. Her eyebrows immediately furrowed when she saw the puffiness of her daughter's eyes.  “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“What’s wrong?” Jane asked again, knowing her daughter too well to let her daughter get by like that.

 

Hermione’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Because she had done enough talking about it in the last few hours and felt even more exhausted than she did when she first woke up.

 

Jane Granger ran her fingers down her daughter's arms and to her fingers. She ran a circle over where Hermione’s engagement ring was supposed to be, and if she was shocked that it wasn’t, she didn’t say a word. She only pulled her in for another deep hug before ushering her to the kitchen.

 

“Your father is still at work. He won’t be off until half past five,” She said as she made her way to the cabinets and reached back until she felt a jar at her fingertips. “So, he’ll never know about this.” She winked.

 

Her father had a rule against having sweets in the house, but her mum always kept a jar of something hidden for the both of them when they needed it. It had always been their little secret.

 

“Jelly babies? I didn’t know they made these anymore.” Hermione waited until her mother sat down the jar and reached in for one of the sweets.

 

“Of course they do,” Her mum laughed, “How long are you staying for? I’ve got a few more jars hidden around the house if you’ll be here for a while.”

 

“Only the night, if you’ll have me.” Hermione said in between bites of candy. She nearly asked her mum if she had charmed them to be this delicious before laughing quietly at her own thoughts. “I have work in the morning, and the Ministry will start to ask questions if they notice me apparating to and from the muggle world every few hours.”

 

“Let them ask.”

 

Hermione smiled. “Let me rephrase: they don’t ask, they interrogate. I’m just kidding, mum, don’t look so worried. But I do have to leave tomorrow.”

 

“Then catch me up on what’s been happening with my girl since the last time I saw you in person.” She reached for Hermione’s hand and laid hers on top. “Whatever you want to update me about, that is.” She added gently.

 

Hermione chewed on her jelly baby as she considered what she might want to talk to her about.

 

“Work.”

 

“Work?”

 

“Yes,” Hermione smiled proudly. “I’m at the top of my class.”

 

::

 

Hermione could hear _his_ voice in her head as she slept that night, calling out to her in that low, gruff voice that had sent chills running up and down her spine the last time she had seen him. Her body was calling for her to give in and accept whatever it was that he was offering her, but there was a small part of her that knew better, that was trying it’s hardest to wake her up from her slumber before she could answer his call.

 

It was her mind's persistence that she resist that finally got her to wake.

 

Hermione leapt up in bed, pressing her hand against her fast beating heart, before looking towards the alarm clock in her parents guest room. Even though she wanted nothing more than to melt back against the pillows and close her eyes, it was nearly time for her to go to work.

 

Hermione swung her legs over the edge of the bed and walked to the washroom where she turned the shower to its coldest temperature and stepped in.

 

::

 

“You seem distracted.”

 

“Healer Nalker!” She squeaked out in surprise. “I’m sorry...I didn’t see you there.” She hurriedly bent to pick up the files she had dropped

 

“I suppose you couldn’t have with your eyes closed like they were.” Healer Nalker responded with a single eyebrow raised. “Do you often walk around the halls like that, Trainee Granger?”

 

Hermione could practically _feel_ the smirks from a nearby group of trainees who had stopped to watch the spectacle unfold. She imagined they were happy to see her, the consummate know-it-all, being knocked down a peg or two by her superior-- or maybe, she thought to herself, that was just the exhaustion talking.

 

“No, of course not, I--” Hermione’s explanation was cut off by an ill-timed yawn.

 

“Do I need to warn you about the dangers of working without a proper night’s sleep?” Healer Nalker asked, staring down at Hermione as if she had caught the witch red-handed.

 

Hermione shook her head.

 

She had read every rule book the hospital had put out and researched even more to fill in the gaps she found. She was well-versed, which, she knew, meant she should know better. And she did, she told herself, it was just that sleep hadn’t come easy to her last night, and when it did it was hardly what she wanted to dream about.

 

Healer Nalker looked her over with a look Hermione knew far too well. It was the same one she used when she was getting a first look at patients that had just been admitted to the floor.

 

“Have you thought about taking some personal time off?.”

 

Hermione shook her head so fiercely that some of her curls escaped the bun she had molded them into earlier that morning.

 

She wouldn’t even entertain the idea of taking any more time off than she already had. It was nearly the end of the trainee program, and she had to outshine the rest of her cohort if she wanted to get anywhere near the placement she wanted.

 

But beyond that, she  _needed_ this.

 

Needed the routine and the consistency and the noise and the distractions.

 

She needed it all.

 

She would go mad without it, she just knew it.

 

Hermione regretted not glamoring away the dark circles under her eyes and the puffiness of her lids the instant Healer Nalker clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth and shook her head.

 

“You should go, Trainee Granger. It would look better for you if you were to go on your own volition rather than me, one of your superiors, ordering you to go home.” She set a hand on Hermione’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “There’s no harm in taking some time off. Go home and come back tomorrow refreshed.”

 

::

 

“Ms. Granger, what a surprise,” Narcissa said in a tone that hinted that Hermione’s arrival outside of their front gates had been anything but, “Come in, Teacup will see to your coat.”

 

Hermione did as she was told, not even bothering to argue against handing the waiting house-elf her coat when she finally unbuttoned it and shook it off of her shoulder.

 

“You must be here for Draco.” Narcissa’s features may have been guarded, but her words were tinged in a hopefulness that Hermione couldn’t ignore.

 

“I’m here for your library, actually.” Hermione told her honestly. Hermione stopped herself from saying more when she heard the sound of banging coming from the room to their left. “What are you doing to the drawing room?” She asked curiously as she tried to crane her neck to see around the older witch.

 

“A touch of remodeling.” Narcissa stepped into Hermione's line of sight to prevent her from seeing any more. “It’s not done, and I’d rather you not take a look until we change it all.”

 

“Oh.”  

 

“It was Draco’s idea,” Narcissa whispered it as if she were letting her in on a secret, “He’s hopeful that if we change that room in particular you might feel more at ease here.”

 

“It isn’t just _that_ room.” And it wasn’t as if changing any of the rooms in the house would make her feel any more at ease than she already was, she wanted to add, but held her tongue at the look of vulnerability on Narcissa’s face.

 

It looked sincere, but Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if everything the witch was doing was just an act. Maybe she was just as good at manipulating people as her son and husband were.

 

Before Hermione could give it any more thought, Narcissa laid a hand on her arm, looking down to check to see if the witch would allow such contact, and then led her up the stairs and down the hall to the Malfoy library.

 

“If you tell me what you’re looking for, I could possibly help, Hermione.” Narcissa said her name as if she was testing the waters and seemed pleased when Hermione didn’t immediately bar her from using it.

 

“Dreams,” Hermione said after debating it for a few moments. She pushed a book back onto the shelf before turning to face Narcissa, “I’ve been having dreams.”

 

“About?” Narcissa asked innocently.

 

“Your son.” Hermione pushed her foot across the soft carpeting of the library.  She took in a deep breath. “For the last few days I’ve been having a hard time sleeping, and they’ve been distracting me from--”

 

“--That must be hard for you.”

 

Hermione nodded her head.

 

“I can’t keep waking up as exhausted as I have been. I need to find a way to stop them.”

 

“You can’t. Once they’ve begun, they don’t stop.” Narcissa looked far too pleased for Hermione's tastes. “Excuse my directness, but I must assume that you and my son have had some sort of...physical contact in the last few days if you’re already having dreams.”

 

Hermione knew there was no point in lying to her. She always seemed to know more than she was letting on anyways. 

 

“It was only a kiss.” And she hadn’t asked for it; hadn’t wanted it. 

 

“Only a kiss,” Narcissa repeated with a soft laugh, “You’ll find that the simplest of things can wake up what lies dormant inside of our bodies.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Your body has been made aware of your bond,” She said simply, “These dreams you’ve been having will only get worse, They'll be more...what did you call them, distracting? Yes, _distracting._  That's what they'll bethe longer you and Draco go without contact. It’s the same feeling Draco feels when you aren’t around.” Narcissa watched as the emotions played out across Hermione's. “As a mate, you don’t have to act upon any of your dreams,” She admitted hesitantly. “But that doesn’t mean they will go away. Believe me; they won’t. ”

 

“He’s like a drug.” And she was going through withdrawals, she thought to herself with a laugh. “Did he know?” Hermione asked suddenly, “Did he know when he..when he kissed me what that mean for me?”

 

Hermione felt his presence before he spoke to let it be known. She met his eyes, hers narrowing at the unapologetic look in his.

 

“I’ll take it from here, mother.”

 

Hermione watched as Narcissa left the room, only stopping briefly to whisper something in Draco's ear.

 

“Go ahead," He said after the door closed, "Ask away.”  

 

“Did you know?”

 

“Not until afterward.”

 

“I don’t believe you.”

 

“Then why’d you ask?” He took a step closer to her. “I do have to admit that I’ve enjoyed the little dreams you’ve been having,” He continued when she said nothing in return, “But I have had nothing to do with them, love. I only wish you didn’t have to wake so early so maybe then I could see the good part.”

 

“You can see them?” She sputtered, feeling the heat racing to her cheeks.

 

He smirked down at her, shrugging one of his shoulders.

 

“See, feel, taste,” He said each word slowly, dragging them out as he looked her over, his eyes lingering on the redness of her cheeks, “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

 

“I’m not embarrassed.” She ground out, dodging the hand he had reached out towards her. “I’m angry. I don’t want any of this.”

 

“There you go talking about all the things you don’t want again,” He sighed, “Maybe it’s time for you to start thinking about all the things you do want out of this.”

 

Draco stepped towards her again, ghosting his hand over her shoulder, not quite touching but getting close enough that she could still feel the bumps forming on her arms.

 

“Like a touch here?” He moved his hand down to her neck, “Or here?” He looked her in the eyes before his hand further down. “Here maybe? If I recall correctly, this is the spot in your dream where--”

 

Hermione lashed out at him, pushing his chest until he was forced to take a step backwards.

 

“Do you ever stop?”

 

“Depends on what you’re talking about,” He smirked, “I’ll always want to work you up, but, hopefully in the future, we can find different ways to have that realized.”

 

He took another step backwards when she pushed him again.

 

“I’m sorry,” Draco apologized, biting back the smile he knew would earn him another shove. “Are you really cross with me?”

 

“Do you expect me not to be?” Hermione laughed, “You clearly think I’m something you can play with, no, worse than that, you think I’m something you can own. I’m not a new broomstick or the galleons in your vault; you can’t just try and use me based on your whims at the moment.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Stop saying that when we both know you don’t mean it!” She yelled, “I can’t keep going on like this, Malfoy. I’m tired. Physically, mentally, and emotionally _tired._ I’m going to break.”  

 

He looked taken aback, and whatever playfulness that had been on his face vanished as he looked down at her with concern.

 

“You need me.”

 

“ _What_? That--you’re not listening!”

 

“Remember when I was in the hospital and your touch was the only one that could calm me?" She would never be able to forget, she wanted to tell him. "Now it’s my turn to give you what you need.”

 

“And what’s that?” Hermione sighed, running her hands up her face and through her hair. 

 

“I can show you easier than I can tell you.”

 

He held out his hand to her and kept it out even when she didn’t take it.

 

“What? You want to hold my hand?”

 

He couldn't hide the smile that stretched across his face. 

 

“More than that, if you let me.”

 

::

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan,emphasis on plan, to update this regularly through April. I'm hoping that being a part of NaNoWriMo will help my writings block!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves frantically* Welcome back :) Be gentle with me for this chapter, I had three 1/2 months worth of writer's block so this isn't my favorite chapter of the story, but I wanted to get it out because so many people were asking about it and if I stared at it any longer I was going to go crazy. With all that said, I hope you enjoy it for what it is :)

  
::

 

Draco watched her carefully, noting how her hand raised slightly before she hesitated and let it fall back to her side, flexing her fingers and curling them into a fist as if to make sure they didn’t betray her by reaching out to him.

 

It was clear to him what she wanted,  _needed_ , but it seemed his stubborn little witch had already talked herself out of it, and there would be no swaying her unless he changed his tactics.

 

“I’m offering you an olive branch, Granger,” Draco said smoothly, tilting his head to the side as he offered his hand to her again. “Didn’t you just say you were tired of fighting?”

 

“Is it peace you’re after, Malfoy?” Hermione found herself asking, “Or is it surrender? Because those are two entirely different things.”

 

And she knew exactly which one taking his hand would indicate.

 

Draco hummed deep in the back of his throat. “What’s wrong with surrender?” He noted the grim line her mouth set itself into and thought carefully about what he was going to say next, knowing that the wrong thing would surely set her off and she wouldn't come back to the mansion so easily if she left in anger this time. “What about a mutual surrender? We will both-” He stopped at the sound of her laughter- “What? You think it can’t be done?”

 

“I think you’re trying to sell me a dream, Malfoy. One that you have no intention of following through with,” Hermione huffed, "You don’t want peace between us. You like getting a reaction out of me too much for that. Just admit it.”

 

Draco didn't offer her an answer, merely stared at her until her skin heated and she was forced to drop her eyes down to the bare floor of his library before she looked over towards the door directly behind his shoulder.

 

All of this was becoming too much, _too confusing_ , for her. If she didn’t leave now, she wasn’t sure she would be able to keep her wits about her, and that’s exactly what she needed when he was around.

 

“I’m not trying to sell you anything. Why is that so hard to believe?”

 

“Are you serious?” Hermione laughed, her eyes lingering on him for longer than she would have liked before moving again. “I spent ten minutes trying to talk to you, and everything I said went in one ear and out the other, and  _now_  you want to talk? Come off it, Malfoy, I know you better than that.”

 

“Look, Granger, I know I haven’t been perfect in any of this. Far from it, obviously.” His lips twitched at the sound of her laughter even though he knew she was laughing at him and not with him. “If I were, I would have taken my mother’s advice instead of shrugging it off.” She looked surprised at this, and so he went on to explain. “She thinks you’re a mouse.”

 

“Of course your mother would compare me to a-”

 

“It’s not an insult, Granger- “ At least he didn’t think it was one- “She only means you’re clever and that if I don’t want you to run off, then I need to stop being-”

 

“A prick?”

 

“Pushy, Granger, she warned me to stop being so pushy.” The corners of his lips twitched again even as he tried to seem annoyed by her constant interruptions. “And I’ve been trying, really, I have, but it’s just not that simple when you’re around. Anytime I’m alone with you I find myself wanting to-” He let his words trail off, his tongue darting out to wet his lips-” _Push_  you.”

 

“That was a terrible apology, Malfoy.” Hermione sniffed, her eyes once again meeting the door behind him.

 

She took a step towards it, but he followed her movement, angling himself so he was standing in between her and her only means of escape.

 

“That’s because it wasn’t an apology, it was an explanation,” he told her simply, ignoring the affronted look on her face, “You can’t expect me to apologize for something I have no real control over. That’d hardly be fair.” His voice was low and teasing, and Hermione found she didn’t like it one bit. “I will say that I’m willing to stop being so...difficult to get along with if you are.”

  
“I’m not-”

 

“You are,” he told her, his voice free of judgment, “But, again, so am I. That’s why I’m suggesting we call a truce. For both our sakes.” She had a look on her face that he immediately recognized from the years they spent together in Hogwarts. "No? How much longer do you plan on playing pretend?"

 

Hermione scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “There’s nothing to play pretend about.”

 

“Really?

 

Draco took an experimental step towards her, and then another when she made no move to put space between them.

 

“Really,” Hermione repeated quietly, stubbornly, her voice lacking the conviction she thought it might have.

 

She felt like she was teetering on the edge of a cliff and he was the rush that was going to come with the fall. And, in a way, that terrified her because Ron had never been the rush, he had always been the voice that told her to take a step back.

 

“Granger,” Draco interrupted gruffly, his mouth set in a snarl as if he knew exactly where, or who, her mind had wandered off to. “I don’t have all day to watch you stare off at walls,” he bristled, “If a healer saw you like this they’d have you sealed in a room at St. Mun- _wait_ , where are you going?”

 

He followed her from the library to just outside of its doors, grabbing her arm and pushing her backwards until her back hit the banister. His hands came down to grip the wood on each side, caging her in before she had time to duck under them.

 

He pushed into her then, or maybe she leaned into him, and the ragged breaths he breathed out above her head sent pieces of her hair flying in response.

 

“Move back.”

 

Hermione put her hands on his chest and gave him a good push, but he didn’t move, just breathed a little harder as his fingers flexed around the banister one by one.

 

She stared up at him,  _glared_  really, her face a brilliant shade of red and her eyes narrowed in a way he knew meant her tongue was about to give him a proper lashing.

 

“Don’t be mad me at, Granger,” he whispered against the side of her neck, the stubble on his chin scratching against the bottom of her jaw as he pulled back to look at her, "I'm sorry." 

 

“Move. Back.”

 

She brought her hands up to his chest to push him again, but they trailed down his shirt instead, stopping only when her fingers met the coolness of his belt buckle.

 

She looked up at him at the sound he made, her face still glowing red but now for an entirely different reason. 

 

“I know what you’re doing," Hermione whispered. 

 

Because she could feel it now.

 

The thrum of magic against her skin, the shivers running up and down her spine, the way her heart was beating against her chest just as it had when he had grabbed her the other night, pulled her against him and kissed her.

 

“I told you I’m not your toy.”

 

“This isn’t my doing, Granger.  _This_? This is all you.” He leaned back a little to look at her, his eyes trailing over her face before finding her eyes again. They darted to the wall behind him, and he moved over to block her view. He wanted her full attention. “So if  _anyone_  is being toyed with right now it’s  _me_.”

 

But he didn’t look like he minded at all.

 

Not with the way he was staring down at her, his eyes bouncing from the curls of her hair to the curve of her lips, and then finally the dip of her neckline, where he lingered for five, six, no seven of her heartbeats before returning to her face, his eyes darker now than they had been when they first started their journey.

 

Hermione held her breath, thinking,  _hoping_ , he might erase the remaining space between them by reaching out a hand or bringing down his lips, but was met with nothing but an odd sense of disappointment when he took a step back instead, holding up both of his hands as if to ward off her impending anger.

 

Draco laughed next, breathing out the words ‘stubborn’ and then ‘little’ and then ‘witch’ in between each short burst of air.

 

He regarded her quietly for a few moments before speaking again. “You’re not a toy.”

 

“ _What_?” Hermione breathed out in confusion, “I know I'm not,” she said after a moment had passed and her heart had slowed down, “I’ve been telling you that.”

 

He nodded. “And I listened.”

 

“ _Once_  out of how many-”

 

“I’m trying here, Granger.”

 

“I--” Hermione stopped herself short, straightening her spine, and raising her chin as bravely as she could- “Fine,” she said against her better judgment, “You’re...trying.”

 

Those were not easy words for her to say.

 

He was right, she was stubborn, painfully so at the best of times, and getting herself to say those words had been nothing short of a battle, but she knew she had to because she couldn’t go on like this for much longer.

 

Sure, she could kick and scream, drag her feet, or spend the next however long with her head buried in any, and every, book on the subject, but she was slowly starting to realize that none of  _that_  would change any of  _this_.

 

She would only end up here again, having the same exact conversation with him until she, or him, or they were blue in the face.

 

But then what did that mean for her? Did it mean she had to surrender? That she was no longer hers, but his to do with whatever he wanted?

 

Hermione wouldn’t even entertain the thought, let alone accept it. If peace was what he was really after, he needed to understand that with her it would always come with strings attached.

 

Hermione took one deep and calming breath. “I’m my own person, Malfoy," she said suddenly, "I’ve always been my own person, and you don’t get to change that about me. And I have friends and family that I will always put above whatever this is. And if I decide this is too much for me, whether that's now or later, then that’s a choice I get to make, not one you get to try to manipulate.”

 

“Are those your list of demands, Granger?” Draco asked playfully, “I accept your terms and conditions, though I am a bit disappointed you didn’t request jewels or a stipend or two houses worth of books to go along with them.”

 

“Why would I? I’m not agreeing to anything other than to stop being so ‘difficult to get along with’ as you put it. That hardly deserves access to your family's vault in Gringotts.”

 

She knew he had only been joking, but she also wanted him to know that she wasn’t agreeing to do anything other than stopping their back and forth bickering. She wasn’t ready for anything else. Merlin, she wasn’t even ready for this.

 

Hermione cleared her throat. “I should-”

 

“Stay. For lunch, at least.” Draco leaned over the banister before she had a chance to say no, waving down to the little house elf that had chosen that exact moment to walk from one room to another. “Teacup," he called out, "Ready some refreshments, we’ll meet you outside.”

 

“I didn’t agree to-”

 

“Will you have tea or lemonade, Master?” Teacup asked from just below the stairs.

 

Draco motioned from Hermione down to the elf. “Granger, it's your choice.”

 

Hermione looked down at the waiting house-elf and sighed. “Lemonade, I suppose...but only a glass.”

 

“Teacup will bring the pitcher.” The house-elf whispered to herself before wandering back to the kitchen.

 

Draco turned around and held out his hand to Hermione. “Shall we?”

 

“It’s just down the stairs?”

 

He nodded his head. “And through the side doors.”

 

“Then I think I can manage walking by myself,” Hermione told him as she walked past him and to the stairs where he followed her down with an amused laugh.

 

They walked in silence until they reached the outdoor seating area where Hermione chose the seat furthest away from him.

 

“You’re practically in another country, Granger. I promise I’m not going to bite.”

 

“I like this seat,” Hermione told him primly, “It’s comfortable.” And she was sure the cushion alone cost more than anything she had ever owned.

 

“I’ll have to let mother know you enjoy her taste in furniture,” Draco said as Teacup arrived with their drinks.

 

He waited until the house-elf poured the lemonade into two glasses before taking them from her and ordering her back inside.

 

“Do I even want to know what you’re thinking about?” Draco asked as he handed her one of the glasses. “You look like your head's about to explode.”

 

“How are you okay with this? Any of it. The Malfoy I used to know would have been the first to-”

 

“That’s the key word here isn’t it, Granger?  _Used_  to know. Things and people change, and so do beliefs if given the time and reasons. You should know more than anyone else that nothing in life is stagnant, and I won’t claim to be just so you can talk yourself into thinking I’m the enemy in this.”

 

“That’s not what I was trying to do.”

 

Draco set his eyes on her before he nodded as if whatever he read on her face convinced him she was telling the truth.

 

“Come here.”

 

“I’m fine where I am,” Hermione told him as she ran her fingers up and down her neck. She could still feel the exhaustion of the day weighing on her bones, and it was growing more and more uncomfortable as the seconds ticked on.

 

“You look anything but fine. You look like you’re going to fall over at any moment. Perhaps you should get some sleep.”

 

“What?  _Here_?”

 

“No, Granger, we could go inside.”

 

“ _We_? I’m not sleeping with you.” Hermione sputtered, the tips of her ears reddening at the smirk he was sending her.

 

“I wasn’t suggesting anything untoward, Granger. I do remember our talk earlier, and I have been on my best behavior," he reminded her, "I was only going to suggest that you use one of our many guest bedrooms.”

 

Hermione shook her head; she wouldn’t feel safe sleeping in the Malfoy Mansion. She had too many bad memories of it.

 

Draco clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth and then stood up and crossed the space between them, sitting down next to Hermione despite her sounds of protest.

 

"I'm going to touch you. Not like  _that_ , Granger, calm down." He seemed far too amused for Hermione's liking, and she tried to scoot away from him, but he reached for her hand to pull her back over. "Relax," he said as he laced his fingers through hers, "This is all I'm going to do for now."

 

Hermione tried to pull her hand from his but he tightened his hold on her, leaving her to wonder if he needed this just as much as she did.

 

"Are you feeling better? Draco asked after a minute or two had passed.

 

Hermione nodded her head, not trusting herself to answer out loud.

 

She chanced a look over at him and noticed his eyes were closed, and his breathing was even, and she would have thought he was asleep if it weren't for the fact his fingers had busied themselves with drawing patterns over her skin.  

 

“Good," he hummed, "Just close your eyes, Granger. I think we both know you need the rest."

 

And so she did.

::

 

Hermione blinked her eyes slowly, wiping the back of her hand against her mouth as her eyes tried to adjust to the sudden stream of light that filtered in from in between two tall trees.

 

“She’s awake,” Lucius announced with a slight curve of humor in his voice. He watched as she pushed herself into a sitting position with one hand and used the other to shield her eyes from the sun.

 

Hermione looked between the two wizards suspiciously, her eyes immediately falling on the letter that was hastily passed from father to son.

 

Draco pocketed it before she had a chance to read what was scrawled on the front of the envelope and she narrowed her eyes at him, knowing that he had done so to thwart her curiosity.

 

“Well-rested, Ms. Granger?” Lucius asked as he tapped his cane against the ground. He seemed to know his faux concern had not fooled her because his lips curved into a smirk soon after.

 

“ _Father_.”

 

Lucius raised his eyebrow at the tone his son’s voice had taken but said nothing more about it.

 

“I should be off now. I have more business to attend to before dinner, but Draco, do remember what we discussed.” Lucius said cryptically before looking over to Hermione, “As for you, Ms. Granger, I do hope to see you again very soon. _Awake_ , next time.” He added the last part as if he couldn’t resist, and Hermione thought it was the first time she had ever seen Lucius Malfoy smile.

 

“What is it then?” Hermione asked the moment his father was far enough away.

 

“This?” Draco asked, holding the glass in his hand a little higher in the air. “It’s lemonade.”

 

Hermione glared at him. “You know what I mean, Malfoy. What is _that_.” She pointed at his pocket where the envelope his father had given him was sticking over the top. “The letter...what’s it about?”

 

“Well, aren’t you bossy after a nap,” Draco mused over the top of his glass, “I knew it would help and look at you now, full of energy and ready to argue.”

 

Hermione ran her hands over her face and through her hair.  "I'm going to go." She told him before standing and running her hands over her wrinkled trousers. 

 

“Granger-”

 

“Not because you're being a git, which you are for the record, but because I can't stay here all day. There are plenty other things I need to do."

 

“Can I stop by your flat later?”

 

“Definitely not.” She watched his face fall and felt an odd sense of coldness sweep over her. “Not because of...I don't live there anymore, Malfoy, and I doubt you want to run into who does."

 

He didn't bother to hide the grin that spread across his face. “You've moved? Where to?"

 

“I’m renting a room in Diagon Alley.”

 

He laughed, thinking she was joking, but quickly stood to his feet when he realized she was serious.

 

"Why would you do that? You can stay here."

 

Hermione shook her head. "Absolutely not."

 

"Then in one of the other properties we have."

 

“I don't think that's a-"

 

"Just think about it, Granger. It would be free, and it'd be yours and much better than whatever room you'd rent in Diagon Alley."

 

"Fine," she said more to appease him than anything else. She really didn't want to spend the next ten minutes arguing over it. "Tell your mother and Teacup I said thank you for the lemonade."

 

"She'll want to know where you've gone. What should I tell her?"

 

Hermione knew he was asking more so for his sake than his mothers, but she replied anyway. "To see a friend."

 

::

 

“Hi,” Hermione said the moment the door to Parvati’s flat swung open.

 

She wrung her hands nervously as the witch gave her a once over, thinking that maybe she should have owled before popping outside of her flat unannounced. In her defense, she hadn’t thought Parvati would still be sour over the fight they had a few days ago, but the look on her face suggested she was.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“To talk?" Hermione said hopefully, "I know we haven’t had the chance to do that since our fight, but, Parvati, I wanted to say-”

 

“ _Parvati_?” The witch snorted as she opened the door fully. “I’m not Parvati.”

 

“What?” Hermione sputtered, feeling thoroughly confused. “Oh, you’re--”

 

“Padma," she filled in for her, “Parvati is in the kitchen, eating us out of house and home most likely.” She nodded her head behind her as if signaling Hermione to head in that direction.

 

"Thanks, Padma."

 

Hermione squeezed by Padma and walked to the kitchen, finding Parvati sitting on one of the barstools.

 

“Your sister scares me,” Hermione said as she walked over to the kitchen island and sat on down across from Parvati.

 

“Join the club.” Parvati laughed. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of candy, unwrapping it and pushing it into her mouth. She looked at Hermione for a moment before reaching back into her pocket to pull out another. “Want a lemon drop?”

 

“Don’t you know having sweets for lunch will rot your teeth, Parvati?” Despite her words, she took the sweet from Parvati and pushed it into her pocket to save for later. Rotting teeth, Hermione thought to herself, were the least of her troubles now.

 

“You may have mentioned it once or twice,” Parvati shrugged with a smile. “You know, I looked all over the hospital and couldn’t find you. I wanted to say sorry for-”

 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Parvati,” Hermione interjected, laying her head against the cool surface of the kitchen island. “It was my fault. I felt like I was being backed against the wall but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You were just trying to help. You’ve always just been trying to help. I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m sorry too, even if you think I shouldn’t be.” Parvati leaned her hand against her chin. “So give me an update since it's been a while and hurry before I run out of lemon drops and have to open another bag of sweets."

 

Hermione drummed her fingers on the countertop. “Where to begin?" she laughed, "Ron left, or he tried to leave but I told him he could keep the flat. I mean, what would I do with it? It's his, and I can't afford it by myself." Hermione sighed, "I'm going to get the rest of my things a little later when he's off at work."

 

“Do you need a place to stay? I mean, my flat’s not lavish or anything, but it’s a place. Just as a warning, I don't think there's a spell in the world that'll make our sofa any more comfortable than it is but it's yours if you need it." She watched as Hermione drummed her fingers on the top of the counter again and couldn't help but think the witch was keeping something from her. "What is it, Hermione?"

 

Hermione tipped her head back and groaned. "Malfoy offered me a place to stay too."

 

Parvati scoffed. "You're not staying at their mansion. I'd probably never see you again if they got you to agree to that."

 

"Not there. Apparently, they have another property nearby."

 

Parvati's eyes lit up. "With a pool?

 

“ _Parvati_.”

 

"Just asking for a friend," she smiled, "Do you want to check it out? Make sure they're not trying to lock you up in a tower like a princess?"

 

"I don't know, Parvati." 

 

On one hand, if she took Malfoy's offer she would have a place to stay, and it would be more comfortable than what Parvati was offering. On the other hand, she didn't want to take anything from the Malfoys because she wasn't sure if it would come back to haunt her in the future. 

 

"What's the worse that could happen?" Parvati asked before pushing another sweet into her mouth. 

 

::

 

“Surely he must be kidding,” Hermione motioned towards Teacup who was standing dutifully by coat rack as if she had been expecting them. “Why on earth would he think I’d be okay with a house-elf?”

 

“The little thing is probably a spy.” Parvati laughed as she looked down at it. “Aren’t you, little thing?” she cooed, reaching out her hand to pet it on the head only for that hand to be smacked away by Hermione’s. “I’m only kidding, Hermione. Mostly. There are far more clever ways to spy on a witch than a house-elf....Unless, of course, that’s what they want you to think.”

 

“Teacup is not a spy!” The house-elf vehemently denied, her wide set eyes brimming with tears.

 

Hermione quickly brought her hands up to calm the quivering house-elf. “Parvati is only kidding, Teacup. She knows you’re not a spy.”

 

“That remains to be seen.” Parvati singsonged, rocking back and forth on her feet as the offended house-elf stared at her. “Though I will admit she might also be here because it’s wizarding custom. The Malfoys would be considered rude if they didn’t.”

 

“Teacup is a house-elf for Miss.” Teacup said in agreement as she reached for Hermione’s bags. “Teacup will take the bags!”

 

Hermione hurriedly shooed away her hands. “No! I can move all of my things by myself, thank you.”

 

Teacup’s bottom lip began to tremble. “Master told Teacup to help,” she said, her fingers running over the bottom of the fabric she wore for clothes, “If Teacup does not help, she will be sad.”

 

“That is emotional blackmail,” Parvati snorted, wagging her finger at Teacup, “Your masters have truly taught you all of their ways, Teacup.”

 

“Leave her alone,” Hermione sighed as she reluctantly handed Teacup one of the bags she had hooked around her arm. “You can take that one, and I’ll take these,” Hermione pointed towards the large ones next to her feet. “How does that sound?”

 

Teacup shook her head, “Teacup will take those,” she amended, quickly grabbing the two pieces of luggage before Hermione had a chance to argue otherwise. “Miss and her friend will follow Teacup to the room.” The house-elf called over her shoulder as she slowly dragged the heavy luggage through the living space.

 

“Did she just steal my bags?” Hermione asked Parvati as they followed Teacup through the house. “I don’t think house-elves are allowed to do that!”

 

“That one's gone rogue. I’d watch out for her.“ Parvati whispered as they stopped outside of an opened door.

 

“This is your room,” Teacup smiled proudly, tugging the luggage over to the armoire. “Master told Teacup that only she could clean and wash the sheets. Miss is not allowed to do that,” She told her with a wag of her finger. “Teacup will be back in a while to check in on Miss and her friend.”

 

“You know, I was expecting the worst out of this place when you first told me about it, but it's actually quite nice,” Parvati admitted as she did a slow spin in the center of the room. "Look, you can even see the sun out of that tiny little window over there if you squint hard enough and I don't even think they bothered to put bars over it, which makes for an easy escape.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “That's a perfectly normal sized window, Parvati.”

 

“I know,” Parvati grinned, “I just wanted to see if you’d say something nice about any of this.”

 

Parvati kicked off her shoes and sat down in the middle of the bed. Watching as Hermione started to unpack.

 

“Is that a picture of Ron?” Parvati asked with a snort. “Did you really bring a picture of you two here? Surely that must be against a rule.”

 

“This is from the holiday party, and everyone’s in it. You’d be in it too if you hadn’t gotten pissed off your arse fifteen minutes into it.” She placed the picture frame on a nearby vanity. “Regardless, there aren’t any rules to break. You think I’d even come to take a look around here if there were?”

 

“Do I think you’d knowingly smuggle in contraband just to piss off the Malfoys because they’ve pissed you off?” Parvati tapped her finger on her chin as if she were deep in thought. “Absolutely. One hundred percent yes,” She nodded her head as if she were sure of it. “I think you might do it just for the reaction,” She placed her hand on her heart and deepened her voice, “Granger, you’re bloody crazy if you think I’d stare into the eyes of Weasel King every time I barge in here uninvited. Get rid of that atrocity or my father will hear about this!”

 

“Is that supposed to be me?” A voice drawled from the doorway, causing both Hermione and Parvati to jump. “Don’t stop on my accord,” He said, placing a hand on his chest. “What would I say next?”

 

“Nothing important.” Parvati squeaked as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and pushed herself to her feet.

 

He tilted his head at her. “Which Patil girl are you?” Draco questioned, looking far more amused than he should have. “Padma or the other one?”

 

“Don’t be a git, Malfoy.” Hermione cut in.

 

“I would never.” He looked almost genuine. “Without good reason.” He added when both girls looked at him disbelievingly.

 

“And what reason did you have to send Teacup here?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. “You know how I feel about house-elves and you still did it.”

 

“I had to, it’s custom. Thought you might like her more than the others we have on staff. She’s got a mind of her own, and I thought you might like that about her.”

 

Parvati stuck one of her hands in the air to remind them of her presence. “Should I leave? It seems like the two of you have quite a bit you’d like to discuss with one another.”

 

Draco ignored her.

 

“I came here to talk with you, Granger, so if you could send your friend away we could--”

 

“Parvati is going to stay for awhile. She came all this way to help me move some of my things over, and it’d be rude to send her off just because you want me to.” Hermione said, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“Surely Parvati can join you another time.”

 

“She could, but she’s already here.” 

 

“She’s a witch she can apparate in and out--”

 

“Parvati can’t stay anyway,” Parvati cut in, pulling out her St. Mungo’s coin from her pocket and waving it in the air. “I’m being called into work. Sorry, Hermione,” she apologized, “I’ll stop by after my shift, okay?” she said, pulling the brown haired witch in for a hug. “To make sure you two haven’t argued yourselves to death.” She whispered in her ear before letting her go. 

 

“What did you need to talk about that was so important you had to try and force her to leave?” Hermione asked crossly. 

 

Draco reached into his robe pocket and pulled out the same letter he had kept from her yesterday.

 

“Who’s that from?” Hermione asked, already knowing the answer. She recognized the scrawl of the handwriting on the front the moment she saw it.

 

“My parents think I should keep this from you, but I figure you’ll find out one way or the other. I’d rather you hear it from me now than him later.” He handed her the letter and waited for her to open it, but she stalled, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Read it.”

 

With shaking hands, Hermione tore open the letter and unrolled the parchment that had been stuffed inside. Her eyes scanned the letter, looking up and him every so often, until she reached the end, her hand immediately jumping to her mouth.

 

“He can’t do this.” Hermione gasped.

 

“He can, and he did.”

::

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading :).


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of support that gets to shown to this story always blows my mind! Thank you to everyone who took the time to leave a kudos or a comment on the last, or any, of the chapters. I always get so excited when I get a notification :). I hope you enjoy this latest one. ♥
> 
> P.S. because it's been a little bit since the last update I made sure not to include another evil cliffhanger ;). enjoy, enjoy, enjoy ♥

 

::

"I can fix this," Hermione said breathlessly. "I can talk to him before he-"

 

"Before he what? Heads down to the Ministry and spins a tale about how he was attacked in the halls of St. Mungo's?" Draco asked, pairing his question with a laugh that was void of any humor. "It's too late for that now, Granger, don't you think? He's already got it down in writing so running off to coddle him won't make a difference."

 

"I'm not running off to coddle anyone," Hermione said defensively.

 

It wasn't the first time someone had said that about her and Ron, but when Malfoy said it it wasn't in the teasing tone that Molly always used, or in the slightly annoyed voice of Ginny. No, with him, it was an accusation, barbed and hard and with enough truth behind it that it stung.

 

"I'm not," she said again, her voice louder and firmer this time. "I just don't know what else to do. This is a summons, Malfoy!" She shook the letter in his face as if he hadn't seen it before. "An official summons from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement! They want to speak to you."

 

He raised an eyebrow out of surprise. "You're worried."

 

"Of course I'm worried," she laughed, thinking it was ridiculous he would even ask. “Merlin help us if they think you should be charged with assault or something even worse!"

 

"My mother would never allow anything like that to happen," he assured her softly, and Hermione believed him wholeheartedly because she had seen the lengths Narcissa Malfoy had gone in the past to protect her son and had no reason to doubt the older witch wouldn't do the same now.

 

Hermione looked down at the summons in her hand before back up to him, her eyebrows knitting together when she remembered what he first said when he handed it to her.

 

"Why didn't your parents want me to know about this?"

 

"Because," he started slowly, stretching out the word as if it pained him. "They didn't trust you would do the right thing."

 

"What does that mean?"

 

Draco pushed his tongue into his cheek, obviously trying to decide whether or not he wanted to be honest with her. It was only her heated stare that got him to start talking again, even though it was clearly against his better judgment.

 

"They thought you might take Weasley's side in all of this. That you might run down to the M.L.E and tell them what he's saying is true."

 

"You think I would lie for him?" Hermione asked, her jaw dropping. She knew the Malfoys were no real fans of hers, and she wasn't of them, but to think she would ever commit perjury to-

 

"It's not that they think you'll lie."

 

"Then what is it?" Because that's exactly how he made it sound. 

 

He tilted his chin up to the ceiling as he carefully considered his next words.

 

"They think you might remember the situation differently than it happened given your...history with Weasley."

 

"What does that have to do with anything? Our 'history' together doesn't stop me from remembering that you _both_ were involved in that fight. You _both_ were acting like arses."

 

"And yet only one of us went crying to the Ministry about it because only one of us has an agenda to do so."

 

"An agenda?" Hermione choked out with a laugh. "What agenda? What he is doing is beyond stupid, and I will tell him as much." He tried to interrupt her, but she pressed on despite his objections. "But he doesn't have an agenda. He just-" Her hand filtered through the air before falling limply to her side. She didn't have an explanation, only Ron did, which was why-

 

"He wants to disrupt our lives. Wants to cast as much doubt as he can over me, over my family, so that you will stay at odds with us. _That's_ his agenda."

 

"He's not some mastermind, Malfoy! What's _your_ agenda in painting him to be some sort-"

 

"What is it going to take to get you to stop protecting him? What is he going to have to do?" His lips drew back in a snarl when she stayed quiet. "Pure and precious Weasley can do this-" He reached out and took the summons from her, crumpling the paper in his anger before letting it drop to the floor-" And you're the first on the front lines to defend him. You will _always_ be the first to defend him even when he doesn't deserve it."

 

"I'm not defending him." Hermione denied.

 

"You're a terrible liar, Granger."

 

He was visibly upset, and Hermione thought that this might be the first time she had ever seen him in a state like this. 

 

It made her want to rush over to him, to brush her fingers across the lines that knitted together his brows, to press her head against his chest and wait until the beating of his heart calmed down-- and maybe she would have if it weren't for the look in his eyes that told her to think otherwise.

 

"This is why my parents didn't want you to know about any of this. Because no matter what Weasley says or does, you will always fight to see the best in him even if that means believing the worst in me." He gave her one last look before leaving the room, the sound of a pop following not too long after.

::

  
“I see you’re still in one piece,” Parvati noted as she stepped out of the fireplace. She dusted away stray bits of floo powder from her yellow robes before she sat down next to Hermione on the sofa. “Should I be worried about him?”

 

"I don't know," Hermione replied, shrugging one of her shoulders.

 

"You don't know because you contracted a hit wizard to do your dirty work for you or you had that little thing over there do it?" She pointed towards Teacup who had chosen that exact moment to come walking in with the plate of fudge she had insisted on making for dessert.

 

"Neither," Hermione said as she took the plate from the house-elf. "Don't look at me like that, Parvati! Every time I tell her to stop doing something or remind her that I'm perfectly capable of doing it by myself she tells me to sod off. Not in so many words, _obviously_ , but the implication is definitely there."

 

Parvati laughed as she stretched out on the sofa, her feet settling against the edge of the coffee table. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried to free her yet.”

 

“Oh, I’ve tried, many, many, many times today, but she keeps disappearing.” Hermione sighed as she took a piece of fudge from the plate and took a bite out of it.

 

"That's what spies do, Hermione, they come in and out, in and out." She weaved her hands through the air as if to show the secret pathway Teacup was taking to and from the Malfoy Manor all while Hermione was none the wiser.

 

"The only person who has gone anywhere today is Malfoy."

 

Parvati arched an eyebrow. "Why'd you say it like that?"

 

"Like what?" Hermione said in between bites of fudge.

 

"Like this: The only person who has gone anywhere today is Malfoy," Parvati repeated, adopting the same gloomy tone that Hermione had used.

 

"I did not sound like that!"

 

"You did, which only makes me wonder why." Parvati tapped her finger on her chin before leaning in closely to Hermione,"You should be bursting with joy right now. Why aren't you, Hermione Jane Granger? What happened?"

 

"Jean," Hermione corrected. "And nothing happened-"

 

"The Missus was not nice to Master," Teacup interjected from the corner, reminding the two witches of her presence. "Master was not happy when he left, which made Teacup sad."

 

"You traitor!" Parvati exclaimed, pinching Hermione on her side. "I can't believe I had to hear you ruffled Malfoy's feathers from a house-elf. I thought we were better mates than that, Hermione!" She shook her head as if she truly felt slighted. "You owe me an explanation. From top to bottom."

 

Teacup didn't look at all interested in what Parvati was saying, her eyes, and attention, glued instead to the half drank cup by Hermione. "Should Teacup bring the Missus and her Padma some water?"

 

Parvati gasped, slapping a hand dramatically against her chest. "It's _Parvati_ , and we'll discuss why you called me Padma later, you little spy, but skip the water and bring the wine. The bottle, not just glasses. Now off you go."

 

Teacup looked like she was going to refuse but turned on her heels and walked towards the kitchen without another word.

 

"Now go on, Hermione. Top to bottom."

::

Parvati tipped her glass back until the last bit of wine slid across her tongue. "I can't believe it," she giggled as she poured more wine into the glass. "Are you telling me that _Malfoy_ was the one to storm out of a room and not you? Merlin, how the tables have turned." 

 

"Parvati."

 

"Sorry," she smiled sheepishly. "Keep going."

 

"That's it," Hermione groaned. "I don't know what to do."

 

"First things first, you go out and deliver some hexes. One to Ron for being an absolute idiot and then head over to the Malfoy Manor and give them one or two for trying to keep you in the dark. And then- _What_? Okay, sorry, I'll be serious. It's this wine. I think your elf did something to it." She held the wine glass close to her eyes, examining the swirling liquid inside before shrugging and taking another drink. 

 

"I think you're just a lush," Hermione tugged the wine glass from Parvati's hand and put it on the side table nearest to her.

 

"I don't see how both of these things can't be true," Parvati smiled mischievously. "But I do think Ron deserves a nice hex to his backside. I can't believe he actually went down to the Ministry to file an official complaint against Malfoy as if he wasn't as much to blame for that fight. It's ridiculous." Parvati shook her head as she grabbed Hermione's wine glass and brought it to her lips. "Absolutely ridiculous." She said, taking a healthy sip of it.

 

Hermione pulled her glass from Parvati's hand and took her own sip. "And now Malfoy has turned this into some example of how I'll always run to Ron's defense. It's like he wants me to choose sides."

 

"Um, that shouldn't be hard. As much as it pains me to say it, and I'll deny it 'till the day I die if you ever repeat it, Malfoy is clearly in the right here."

 

"I know that." She had never denied it. "It's just...I'm not-"

 

"Used to being on his side?" Parvati filled in for her. "I get it. I practically want to oblivate myself for even having thought it, but if the tables had turned and Malfoy had been the one to-"

 

"I would have hexed him into another life without thought, and don't think I haven't thought about doing it to Ron either because I have, but-" Hermione paused and ran her hands down her face "-This is just so out of the blue, Parvati. He's not like this. He's never been like this."

 

"You mean impulsive and not well thought out? Maybe he has always been like that, but you've shrugged it off in the past."

  
"What?"

 

Parvati sighed. "You've always had a bit of a Ron problem. He makes a muck of things, and you just say it's Ron being Ron. That year he forgot your birthday? Ron being Ron. When he didn't show up for our yellow robe ceremony at St. Mungo's because he got the days mixed up? Ron being Ron. Every time he gets heated after losing a game of Quidditch and makes a fool of himself in front of everyone? Ron being Ron. And now this? Maybe Ron being Ron is really a code word for being a bit of a prick."

 

Hermione sat next to Parvati quietly for a few moments, letting what the witch said sink in before nodding her head and then pushing herself up from her seat. 

 

"I need to head out for a bit," she said, grabbing the jacket she had thrown on the chair across from them earlier. "I'll be back in no time at all. You can stay here if you want, okay?" she added at the sight of Parvati's worried look. 

 

"Hermione, wait, I didn't mean to upset you. You know I can't turn my mouth off when wine is involved. It wasn't my place to say any of that, and honestly, I'm probably wrong because-"

 

"It's fine, Parvati," Hermione promised. "And you're not wrong, not really. I just...I have something to do. I'll be back, promise," she said before disapparating with a loud pop. 

  
::

"Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said uncomfortably as the door to the manor swung open and revealed him on the other side. "Is your wife home?" She tried to look over his shoulder, but he angled his body as if he were blocking what was behind him.

 

"Afraid not, Ms. Granger, but I'm sure I could be of the same service to you as my wife would be." He opened the door a little more though his body stayed in the same spot. "Do come in. Perhaps we can talk in my office about what you might need."

 

Hermione shook her head. "That's not necessary. I can always come back lat-"

 

"Don't be silly, Ms. Granger, you've come all this way for something, haven't you?" He stared at her patiently, his features adopting the same look his son was known to use on people. "I won't let you go home empty-handed," he said with a voice full of faux concern. "Come in."

 

"Fine," Hermione said against her better judgment, stepping up the last few stairs that separated them and then walking through the door, turning around when it closed by itself behind her. "You know how to do wandless magic?"

 

"Wizards don't often get to my age without learning how to cast a spell or two without a wand," Lucius replied as he led them down one corridor and then another. "Sit there." He pointed to the chair across from a large mahogany desk, which he sat behind without sparing her another look. "What is it that you need, Ms. Granger?"

 

"I wanted to talk about this." She pulled the summons from her pocket and tossed it on his desk.

 

His eyes widened in recognition before they became guarded once more. "What of it?"

 

"You weren't going to mention this to me at all?"

 

Lucius straightened in his chair, his eyes narrowing at the witch across from him as his mouth set in a grim line. "Do you want an apology for doing right by my son?"

 

"No, but-"

 

"Good, because you wouldn't receive one, Ms. Granger, not even if you asked nicely. Now, if that's the only thing you came here for you can-"

 

"It's not," Hermione interrupted, her face flushed. "I didn't come here to argue." His disbelieving look didn't stop her from continuing. "I came here to help. I don't want him to get in any trouble."

 

"Who are you referring to when you say 'him'?"

 

"Your son, of course."

 

"I was just making sure. Can never be quite certain with you," Lucius said evenly. "If you want to help, you will have to-"

 

"I do want to help. I was there that day, I know what happened between him and Ron, and I won't let him get dragged through the mud over this."

 

"Even if my son _was_ the aggressor in the unfortunate tussle he had with Weasley it wouldn't matter. Veelas are very rarely prosecuted in cases like these. Do you know why?"

 

"I don't," Hermione answered honestly. "But, I remember there was an incident with Fleur a few years ago, but she was never charged." And Bill and Fleur never spoke of it again, at least not when she was around.

 

"When a veela feels they, or their bond, is being threatened they are known to react, often violently, but that is by nature, not by choice. The Ministry has laws in place to protect veelas from prosecution if that is the case. Do you believe that is the case, Ms. Granger?"

 

His question hung in the air, and he waited patiently for her response to it, seemingly unsatisfied with her simple nod of affirmation. He wanted to hear it from her, apparently, which made her even more uneasy.

 

"I could see how he might have thought that," Hermione said after a while. It seemed that the mere mention of Ron was enough to aggravate Malfoy, so she could only imagine how he felt when he saw him that day. 

 

Lucius leaned forward in his seat, threading together his fingers. "If you want to be of help, Ms. Granger, you'll need to come forward as Draco's mate." He hushed her when she started to talk. "They, the M.L.E, will need to know your name."

 

"Why my name?" Hermione asked, "Why can't you just say he reacted the way he did because of his-"

 

He stopped her. "Would you be ashamed to have your name connected to my son's?"

 

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "No."

 

"Then what does it matter?"

 

"It doesn't," Hermione lied,"I just haven't had the chance to tell my family about any of this so telling complete strangers before them doesn't seem-"

 

"You offered your assistance, and now I've told you how to be of service. What do you plan on doing now, Ms. Granger?"

 

Hermione stalled, knowing what the right answer was but still having trouble getting it out. It was the way he was looking at her, she decided. It was as if he already knew she was one step from getting up and running off.

 

She took one deep breath. "Whatever is necessary to help him," Hermione said, proving him wrong. "Give them my name. I don't care." Not anymore, at least.  "Do whatever. I won't let Malfoy get in trouble for something that wasn't solely his fault. It wouldn't be right."

 

She let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding, her shoulders sagging in relief as Lucius Malfoy looked her up and down in surprise.

 

"Something has changed between the two of you, hasn't it?"

 

"No," 

 

His lips twitched as if he found something funny. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a terrible liar?"

 

"Your son," Hermione replied without thinking. 

 

Lucius Malfoy laughed, the sound ringing in Hermione's ears. She had never heard him laugh before and it made her feel like she was intruding on a private moment. 

 

"I will let you know how we plan on proceeding by tomorrow morning. You'll probably get word by an owl, or, perhaps, I'll send Draco to give you the news."

 

"Okay."

 

"Brilliant. You may leave now, Ms. Granger. I'll let Narcissa know you came round for her." He watched as Hermione pushed her chair back and stood up, awkwardly nodding at him before turning her back and walking towards the exit. 

 

"He's on the back lawn." He called out as her hands braced against the doors.

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"Draco."

 

"Oh, I'm going back home now, Mr. Malfoy, you can tell him I stopped by later if you want."

 

Lucius hummed, deep and low. "He's probably out flying that broom still. You might be just the only thing that will get him to land. Do tell him I say hello when you stop by." He got up from his seat before she could say anything else and left her sitting in his study alone.

::

 

She had truly meant to leave after talking to Lucius but somehow found herself walking down the path to the Malfoy Manor's back lawn. 

 

Her hand went up to shield her eyes as she looked up towards the sky, wondering if she could spot him amongst the clouds or if he had gone too far up for her to see like Harry, Ron and Ginny tended to do.

 

She gave out a frustrated sigh when she couldn't find him and almost turned on her heel to leave, but stopped when she started to _feel_ him. It was an odd sensation, one that she was sure she would never get used to, but she closed her eyes and tried to focus in on it anyways. 

 

"I know you're out here somewhere, Malfoy. You can stop hiding now," she whispered to herself.

 

"Who's hiding, Granger? I've been sitting here the entire time. You've been too busy staring off at the sun to notice."

 

Hermione nearly jumped out of her bones at the sound of his voice but tried to play it off as she turned to face him, settling both of her hands on her hips as if she were about to launch into a lecture. 

 

"Why didn't you say anything?" Maybe then she wouldn't have spent the last few minutes making a fool of herself.

 

He shrugged. "More fun not to." He capped his water bottle and placed it beside him before reaching down to the broomstick that lay at his feet. "Why are you here?"

 

Hermione cringed even though it was a simple enough question, one that she was sure she would be asking him if she were in his position.

 

"I wanted to speak to your mother," she said simply, lifting her chin high. 

 

"Ah," he hummed, making her wonder if he had been hoping she would say something else. "She's not here."

 

"I know," Hermione said, pulling her jacket closer to her body as a cold breeze rolled by, "Your father told me. I spoke with him instead."

 

"You and father in the same place with no witnesses?" He squinted his eyes as if he were trying to imagine it but then shook his head as if it were impossible. "I'll assume he's in two or three pieces, four if he tried to get mouthy with you." There was humor in his voice that didn't show on his face even though she, for whatever reason, wanted it to. "Mother will be back in an hour or two. So if that's all, you can-"

 

"What Ron did was wrong," Hermione rushed out quickly, so quickly in fact that she wasn't sure that he had even heard her until his eyes locked with hers. "It was a terrible thing for him to do and I'm not going to stand here and make any excuses for him or try and defend him. I'm done having a Ron problem."

 

"A what?" he asked, the humor in his voice now showing on his face as well.

 

"You heard me," Hermione grumbled, kicking her foot across the grass. "I spoke with your father about helping you get out of the mess he made. I told him that I would tell the M.L.E I'm your mate."

 

He considered her quietly. "You know that you don't have to do that. I could simply leave your name off of this and be fine."

 

"That's not what your father impl-" She stopped. It didn't matter. "-I've already told your father I would, so I am. Tomorrow," she told him, her eyes focusing on the potted plant behind him because she didn't want to look at him.

 

She had a feeling he would see too much and then she would have to explain things she didn't know if she had the answers for. Like how quickly she had gone from loathing him to whatever this was. It wasn't fondness or anything close, but if she had to place it she would say something that leaned more towards neutrality, and that alone was enough to cause her to panic.

 

Because last week she wasn't neutral in any of this. There were lines drawn, and she knew exactly which side she fell on, and it wasn't his....but today, now, it was as if the line got blurred and she was one word, one look, one touch away from-

 

"Stay," he said as if he could feel her panic. "Come for a ride with me."

 

"Are you mental?" Hermione said taking a step backward. "I'm not getting on that." She pointed down to his broom with a shaking hand. 

 

"Why not?" He looked genuinely confused until he remembered. "You're still scared of flying?" He saw the answer on her face and laughed, "Granger, don't you think it's about time you conquered that fear? I promise I'll be as gentle as you want."

 

There was that teasing tone again, the one that caused her adrenaline to speed up and he knew it -he had to- because if she could hear her heart pounding against her chest, she was convinced he could too.

 

"Master Malfoy!" A voice called from the balcony above them. They both tilted their heads upwards to look at the house-elf. "You must take your potion. It is in the study."

 

"It can wait," he said, his eyes bouncing back to his mate.  

 

"Keeper was worried you would say that," the house-elf said nervously, its fingers already starting to tug at its droopy ears. "Lady Narcissa says Master must take it as soon as it's ready or Master will-"

 

"Okay, fine." Draco interrupted, propping his broom against the bench he had been sitting on. "I don't suppose you'll wait here for ten minutes while I have potions forced on me?"

 

"They're hardly forced on you, Malfoy. Besides, potions like the one you're taking do a lot of good at regulating-" She stopped her explanation when she saw how disinterested he was-"Um, no, I should be getting back home now. It's starting to get dark." She pointed to the sky as evidence.

 

He pursed his lips. "Give me half an hour, and I'll be over. Tell Teacup to prepare some food. I'm already starving."

 

"What? Malfoy you can't just-"

 

"Thirty minutes, Granger, and then you can tell me off as much as you want."

::

 

It was less than thirty minutes later when Hermione heard a knock on the front door. It started softly at first, a few raps to get her attention, but the knocks quickly become louder and much more annoying the longer they went without getting an answer. 

 

"I'm coming!" Hermione called out as she neared the door, stopping briefly when her foot caught the edge of the sofa, "This is all your fault, Malfoy." She whined in pain as she limped her way to the door, ready to give him a piece of her mind.

 

Hermione twisted the doorknob and started to pull open the door, speaking before she could fully see who was on the other side. 

 

"I can only walk so fast, Mal-" She looked at the man in front of her, her heart skipping a beat. "Ron?"

 

::

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *drums fingers* that doesn't count as a cliffhanger, does it? 
> 
>  
> 
> No matter the answer, I hope you enjoyed :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! I know it's been an outrageously long time since I updated this story and I have no excuse other than the months kept flyin' by without me realizing. I do want to say thank you, thank you, thank youuuu for all the support the last chapter got. I'm pretty sure it was most well-received out of all the ones I've done so far so that made me really happy ❤️
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this one as well, it's a little longer and it doesn't - I REPEAT - doesn't have a cliffhanger lol. Take that as my way of saying sorry since it's been months and months. Anyways, hope you enjoy ❤️❤️❤️

 

::

 

"How did you kn-" Hermione dropped her question as Ron pushed inside of her flat, turning back towards the door just long enough to lock it behind himself. He then settled his eyes on her with a look she knew all too well. It was the one he usually used when he was thinking of the best way to break news to her.

 

"Hermione," he started slowly, his voice free of the roughness and anger that had stained it the last time they spoke. And if it weren't for the tenseness of his shoulders and the way his jaw was set she may have allowed herself to believe that all of this was somehow a mistake, that he had come here to explain that to her, but she was neither blind nor naive.

 

"They've already told me, Ron," she announced before he had the chance to himself, "Did you honestly think they wouldn't?"

 

"I figured they might," he answered honestly with a shrug of only one of his shoulders, "I thought they might let that-" he stopped for only a moment, his jaw twitching before he continued- "That... _prat_ be the one to do it if only so he could come off good in your eyes."

 

He looked down at her harder when she dropped her eyes to the ground, laughing as if she were nothing more than a puzzle he had finally pieced together.

 

"That's what they did, isn't it? Kept you in the dark about it until they could send him in to play the hero, forcing you to be thankful to him." His bitter tone was back, and it bit at her skin. "Tell me I'm wrong." She couldn't, and he knew that. "They know  _exactly_ how to manipulate you into doing, and feeling, what they want, Hermione."

 

"You're no better," Hermione spat out defensively, her face so hot that she didn't have to guess what color it was. "Not that it's any of your business, but it wasn't how you're trying to make it out to be." Though, if she were honest, she was starting to feel less and less sure if it. "It doesn't matter anyway. None of it. Not how I found out or who told me or why. The only thing that matters is what  _you_ did so maybe, Ronald, you should stop trying to pin the blame on everyone else when it's clear to me that the only villain here is you."

 

He stared at her calmly as if he wasn't at all shocked by her outburst. "They've really got their claws into you now, haven't they?"

 

"No. No one has their 'claws' in me," Hermione denied exasperatedly, her voice heavy with annoyance. "I'm still perfectly capable of coming to my own conclusions, you know, and it isn't as if you made it hard for me. You know as well as I do that what you're trying to do is-"

 

"Since when have you ever taken a Malfoys side?"

 

"Since you forced me to!" She practically yelled, stomping her foot on the ground in a way she imagined she hadn't done since she was a child. She instantly felt the spark of pains shoot up the foot she had hurt only minutes ago, and she winced, letting out the same string of curse words she had always lectured him about.

 

"Look," She started, after taking one deep and calming breath, "Do you honestly think I want to be 'on their side'? Do you think I want to be having this conversation with you right now? Or at all? I don't. But I'm not going to let an innocent man-"

 

"Innocent?" He balked, looking at her as if she should know better. And she did, in a way, but she couldn’t let the past color her response to what was happening now. Not even for him.

 

"In this,  _yes_ , he's innocent," she lamented firmly. He was really starting to get to her now. His words, his presence, the look on his face. All of it was adding up together, and it was starting to drive her mad. "Honestly, if all you've come here to do is argue with me it'd be for the best if you'd just-"

 

She stopped suddenly, and seemingly without cause, and it wasn’t long before the confused wizard in front of her reached his hand in front of her face to snap his fingers. Once, twice, and then a third time until finally, the glazed look that had taken over her eyes turned into one of panic.

 

"What's with you?" Ron asked after giving her a proper once over.  "They're not slipping you potions are they?" He laughed though it was hardly a joke to him. She seemed out of it, and he wouldn't put it past those Malfoys to give her a dose of some dark potion to keep her around and complacent.

 

Hermione looked up at him, startled. "You don't hear that?"

 

He looked around the room. "Hear what?”

 

He was saying more, of this she was sure, but she couldn’t hear a single word of it.

 

It was like something had taken over her senses, and now all she could hear was the sound of a heartbeat. It raced wildly, drumming inside of her head until she felt like she couldn’t take it anymore.

 

“Ron.” Hermione barely managed to get his name out before a groan slipped past her lips. “You’ve got to go.  _Now_.” It had taken her a few moments to realize who that heartbeat belonged to, but once she had, she knew he had to leave, and fast.

 

“Why? What’s going on?” He asked. “I’m not leaving when you look like you’re about to have a fit. You should be checked out at St. Mungo's. Something is clearly very off with you, and if you won’t listen to me maybe you’ll listen to one of your supervis-  _Where are you going_?”

 

Hermione had started to walk away from him, hoping that the sound that was still pounding in her head would lessen if she put space between them. It worked, for a second, until he started to follow after her, his eyes focusing in on her left leg that limped slightly.

 

"Thank you, Merlin." Hermione murmured to herself as she reached down to grab her wand from the end table.

 

The best case scenario was if he left before Malfoy arrived. And the worst was that she was going to be forced to use her wand on one, or both, of them.

 

"Ron, you need to leave. I promise to stop by the Burrow or our..your flat tomorrow morning to finish this. If you want, of course. " Her words didn't move him any closer to the front door, and she sighed. "It's not safe for-"

 

"Not safe?" He looked her over again. “What's with you? And don't lie to me and say nothing is. You're limping. Did he do something to you? Is that why you don't feel safe here?"

 

He reached out for her arm when she tried to brush past him, but dropped it quickly as the heat of her skin burned his fingers through her long sleeved shirt.

 

" _Shit_." He cursed, though the sound of it was lost to the banging on the front door.

 

They both turned towards and with mouths open wide they watched as the door shook and creaked under the pressure from whoever, or whatever, was banging against it on the other side. Hermione looked towards Ron and went through all of the possible scenarios, shaking her head when she couldn't find a single one that was viable.

 

He couldn't go through the front door anymore, that was for certain. And he couldn't apparate out by himself because of the wards she put in place when she first moved in.

 

"What is that?" Ron asked, interrupting her thoughts. "That can't be human."

 

Hermione agreed that the sounds Malfoy was letting out didn't sound human in the least. They sounded primal. Like a warning. And if they were smart enough, she thought to herself, they would heed it instead of spending time discussing it.

 

She grabbed onto Ron's arm and winced as the sounds outside of the door grew louder and more strangled.

 

"We're leaving.  _Now_." She held her wand in the air, closed her eyes, and thought of the safest place for the two of them to be and hoped to Merlin she was right.

 

::

 

"Did I fall asleep at work again?" Parvati asked shortly after opening her front door and seeing the two of them on the other side.

 

She pinched the skin of her arm a few times, her nose scrunching in pain. Pain that she wouldn't have felt if she were dreaming, so she knew this, somehow, was reality. Or...something close to it.

 

"No. Not a dream, but this could be one of those different universes the bloke in room five was going on about. And you thought it was the liquor talking. Well, guess who looks silly no-"

 

" _Parvati_ ," Hermione said tiredly. She didn't have the energy, or the time, to do the back and forth banter with her right now. "He needs to be healed. Help me."

 

"Healed?" She gave Ron a once over, her eyes widening when he brought his hand up to her line of vision. "What happened?" She asked, taking the lollipop she had been leisurely eating from her mouth. "Did you touch Malfoy?" She whispered as if the other wizard was around the corner.

 

The burn pattern did look similar to the one she had gotten from him. Although, Ron's looked a lot better than hers had so he must not have had too much contact with him.

 

She looked at Hermione. "Is Malfoy sick again?"

 

Ron scoffed. "This isn’t from him. It’s from her." He nodded his head towards Hermione before walking into Parvati's flat.

 

"You burned him?" Parvati whispered, her eyebrows shooting to the top of her head. "How?  _Why_? I know I said he was a prat, and he is, but Hermione I didn't think you'd really use your wand on him!"

 

"I didn't use my wand, Parvati! Do you think I would bring him here if I had done this purposefully? He touched my arm and somehow he-"

 

"Merlin." Parvati breathed out. "Are you like Malfoy now?" She looked at Hermione like she was the most interesting patient she had ever come across.

 

She then bit her lip before hesitantly reaching out and poking Hermione on the cheek, poking her at least three times before withdrawing her finger with an almost disappointed sounding sigh.

 

"Hermione," Parvati started, laying her hand on her best mate's shoulder. "You can tell me what really happened. The Ministry would have to force feed me veritaserum before I ever even think about turning on you and, even then, I would definitely never turn traitor because-"

 

"I  _am_ telling you the truth, Parvati. Can we go heal him and then talk about what happened after? Please?"   

 

Parvati pouted for a few moments before putting her lollipop back into her mouth. "Fine. But then I want the truth." She wagged her finger at Hermione a few times before walking into her flat and to where Ron was sitting in her living room.

 

"Okay, this is going to hurt a bit." She tapped her wand against her hands to sanitize them before doing the same to his. He flinched just like she had expected him to. "It seems like you have burns in two different locations. The hands and the arm. Why is that?"

 

Ron looked towards Hermione as if she were supposed to respond.

 

"I had to get him here!" Hermione said defensively. It wasn't as if she meant to burn him. She didn't even know how she had. Parvati had come out unscathed despite making more contact with her skin than Ron had. “Just...get on with it, Parvati." The sooner this was over and done with the sooner she could figure all of this out.

 

Parvati gave Hermione a look before aiming her wand at Ron's hand and whispering a spell. She held on even as he tried to pull away from the pain.

 

"One more to go." She told him before healing his arm. "All done." She stood up from her kneeling position and pocketed her wand. She looked between Hermione and Ron for a few seconds before shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

 

"I'm getting the feeling you two need to talk?" She took their silence as an affirmation. "Well, um, okay I will quarantine myself in the kitchen for a few minutes... or hours or what have you."

 

Hermione waited until she was sure Parvati was gone before sitting next to Ron on the sofa. He tensed immediately, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. They had never been like this. So cold to each other.

 

She sat quietly next to him for a few seconds before speaking.

 

"Ron-"

 

"What is he?"

 

"I've told you already." Or at least she had tried. "You didn't believe me."

 

"You want me to believe that that thing outside of your door was a--"

 

"Veela?" She finished for him. "That's what he is, or at least partly. I don’t understand most of it myself. Fleur could probably explain it better to you than I can."

 

"The brightest witch of our generation suddenly doesn't have all the answers?" He laughed mockingly, his expression growing softer when he saw the look on her face.

 

"I'm telling you the truth, Ron. That's why I need you, I am begging you, to go down to the Ministry. Merlin only knows what would happen to him if you go through with this."

 

"He deserves it." He said bitterly.

 

"No." She pointed a finger at him. "He doesn't, and you know that. I know you do because if you didn't you wouldn't have sought me out and you wouldn't still be here." She took a deep breath and didn't let it out until she had calmed herself. "Even if I don't agree with what you did I still understand why you thought to do it. But this isn't the way, Ron. I'm sure it feels good at the moment to hurt him,  and me, but you can't go through with this. You're a better man than that. You always have been."

 

It didn't matter what Parvati had said earlier, Hermione knew that this wasn't like him. He had his moments, yes, but underneath it all, and to his core, she had always known him to be good.

 

"Don't let your anger turn you into someone you're not."  

 

Ron inhaled deeply, tugging his ear in the way he always did when he was thinking. He looked like he was about to relent and Hermione didn't give him a chance to think twice about it.

 

"End this.  _Now_ ," she pleaded, "Before this becomes some sort of back and forth war that rages between the two of you. I don't want either of you to get hurt because neither of you knows when to stop."

 

Hermione knew revenge was something the Malfoys did exceptionally well and that it would be best for everyone involved if all of this ended here and now.

 

“This isn’t fair, Hermione. We had a life together, and now because of him, that’s all gone.” Those words sounded familiar to her because she was sure she had said them over and over to herself.

 

Ron stood up from the seat and looked down at her, his eyes wet with tears she knew he wouldn’t let fall in front of her. “If I do what you’re asking of me it will be for you and not him.”

 

"If?"

 

"If, Hermione, if." He looked at her one last time before walking to Parvati's fireplace and leaving without another word.

 

Parvati peeked her head around the corner of the kitchen as if on cue.

 

"Good," She smiled, "He's gone." She quickly walked, or skipped as it really was, over to Hermione before settling in next to her. "What happened back at your flat?"

 

"I don't know." Hermione said shaking her head, "Malfoy came, I mean...I was expecting him but not like that. Not acting like he was."

 

"How was he acting?"

 

"Growling like some sort of rabid dog for one. And then trying to break down my front door and do Merlin knows what else if he was able to get in."

 

"He wouldn't hurt you...would he?"

 

"He wouldn’t." Of that she was certain. "Ron is who I was worried about. I just keep thinking about how I burned him but not you. It doesn't make any sense, but Malfoy has to have something to do with it, right?"

 

"I don't know about that, but I do know that it wasn't a burn. I mean, not like mine. It was more like a singe. Like he grabbed a hot kettle off the stove without thinking and got a mark on his fingers from it." She brushed back a piece of long black hair. "I know you're not going to want to, but you could always ask Malfoy about it. Where is he?"

 

"I don't know." Hermione shrugged. "The last time I saw him, or rather heard him, was outside of my flat."

 

Parvati's jaw dropped. "You left him there like that? Growling outside of your door? Hermione! You should have sent word to his parents.” Parvati threw a hand in the air. “Merlin knows what he's up to now. If he's causing any trouble at all, you know where they're going to put him."

 

"I didn't have the chance to do any of that, Parvati! We had to go, or he was going to hurt Ron or himself. I made the best choice I could in that situation." Though, now, she was starting to feel guilty thinking of Malfoy still banging on her door or worse.

 

"I know you did, I'm sorry." She stood up from her seat and pulled Hermione up as well. "We need to go find him before he finds anyone else.  You're probably the only one who can calm him if he's still off his rocker."

 

“Alright.” Hermione said reluctantly, “Let’s go.”

::

 

"He, uh, really did a number on your door," Parvati said as she stepped around it. "And...nearly everything else." She whispered that part as she looked around Hermione's flat, wincing as she saw the damage. It would need more than one spell to clean up all of the mess Malfoy had made. "He must have really wanted to find you."

 

"Not me," Hermione told her as she picked up a frame from the ground and set it back on the mantle. "This wouldn't have happened if Ron hadn't shown up. I don't even know how he knew where this place was! It's not like I've been advertising the move. The only person I've told is--" She looked towards Parvati who then looked towards a decorative pillow lying on the ground, picking it up quickly and using it to hide behind like child.  " _Parvati_!"

 

"I didn't know this would happen!" She said as she peaked around one corner of the pillow. "I was just trying to help him make amends, not set Malfoy off! I thought that had worked when you two showed up outside of my door...but obviously not. I guess I just made everything worse." She gave Hermione a sad look, the one she knew the witch couldn’t stay mad at.

 

Hermione ran her hands over her face. "Let's...just drop it." They had bigger worries than poorly kept secrets. "If he's not here, then he's somewhere else. And you're right; we need to find him before someone else does."

 

“I bet he’s just at the Manor. We should just send an owl over to see. I’m sure he’s just over there brooding or whatever he does in his spare time.”

 

“Master is not at Manor.” Came the voice behind them.

 

“Merlin!” Parvati cried out, turning around to face the house-elf that had snuck up on them. “You need a bell!” She turned towards Hermione. “She needs a bell!”

 

“Where is he?” Hermione asked, ignoring Parvati who was still going on dramatically about bells and being scared half to death.

 

“Teacup is not supposed to say.” The house-elf told her as she began to clean the room, sweeping her hand back and forth as she cast one cleaning spell after another. Hermione would have been amazed if it were not for the fact her mind was focused on something else.

 

“They told you not to tell me?”

 

“The Lady Narcissa told Teacup not to say. So Teacup won’t.”

 

“Well, haven’t you already ruined that by telling us that she told you not to say anything?” Parvati asked, receiving a glare from the house-elf in return.

 

She squeaked in protest when Teacup walked up to her and took the pillow from her hands, fluffing it out before returning it to its rightful spot in the living area.

 

“Teacup is going to clean the rest now.”  She looked at Hermione before tidying more of the mess. “Teacup saw the Young Master before Lady Narcissa came. He was not well. Teacup hopes the wizards will help him feel better.”

 

“What?” Parvati laughed, “ Is he being hand fed grapes on another Malfoy property by some poor saps Narcissa hired? I guess I wouldn’t want that to leak out either. ”

 

“No, Parvati,” Hermione said, grabbing her arm. “Where do you go when you want to feel better?”

 

“The pub down the street from my flat?” She could tell Hermione was not amused. “I don’t know, Merlin,  _fine_. You go to St. Mungo's.”

 

“Exactly,” Hermione said, pulling her wand from her pocket. “St. Mungo’s.”

 

::

 

“Maybe we shouldn’t have come,” Hermione whispered to Parvati as they walked down the quieter than usual corridor of St. Mungo's. Just because it was quiet, however, didn’t mean it was empty. The halls were lined with witches and wizards in the same lime colored robes she had hanging nicely in her closet.

 

“You couldn’t have thought of that  _before_ we got here?” Parvati whispered back, “We could have avoided all of these stares.” She said her last word loudly, hoping it would shame the few who were staring at them like they were some sort of attraction, pointing and whispering as if neither would notice.

 

“Don’t be paranoid, Parvati, no one is staring at us.” Hermione sounded more hopeful than sure.  “Though, if they  _were_ staring, you don’t think it would be because of-” Her voice dropped down to a whisper - “ _You know who_.”

 

“Ignore them.” Was all Parvati said to her question because both of them already knew the answer. If Malfoy had come to St. Mungo's he hadn’t done so voluntarily. Given all the stares and whispers around them, he must have made quite the commotion, and enough people had been around to spread the gossip.

 

And even though Parvati had  _just_ told Hermione to ignore the stares, she didn’t heed her own advice. Fed up with the small crowd of trainees that only seemed to keep growing,  she stomped her foot, put her hands on her hips, and launched into a lecture.

 

“You lot-” She pointed to all six of them - “Are a bunch of  _rude_ cows. And if your mums had taught you any manners at all, you would be doing your jobs instead of standing around watching us.”

 

Parvati didn’t seem to notice the cross-armed, stern-faced, witch in green robes who was staring at her from down the hallway  _but_ she did feel the elbow in her ribs and see Hermione nodding her head to where Healer Nalker stood.

 

“And that’s all Hermione wanted me to say about that,” Parvati added quickly before dragging Hermione over to a reception desk. She covered her face with her hands and only peeked to see Hermione's expression.  “She’s not coming down, is she?”

 

“Trainee Patil,” Healer Nalker said before Hermione could give her the bad news. “What were you just doing?”

 

Parvati stumbled over her words before giving up altogether and bowing her head as if she expected a swift punishment.

 

“Was it embarrassing yourself?” Healer Nalker looked at Parvati expectantly, but she, knowing there was no right way to answer that, remained quiet. “And you-” She turned to Hermione who’s back straightened immediately. “You are barred from his room.”

 

Hermione felt her mouth run dry. “That’s not why I’m..I didn’t want to-”

 

“His mother has requested that you not be allowed access to him.” Hermione wanted to ask why but bit her tongue. “Until we can persuade her otherwise, I’m afraid you may not have visitation with him as you are not family and cannot override her decisions.”

 

Hermione didn’t understand. “But I’m his-” She stopped, her face reddening considerably when she realized just what she was about to say and in the middle of the hallway no less! The gossips were still standing about straining themselves so they could catch every word and here she was about to reveal something she had worked so hard to keep concealed.

 

But maybe, Hermione thought to herself, it didn’t matter. They probably all knew by now, which was why they had been staring since she had walked onto the floor, but they hadn't heard it from her, which meant that maybe no one  _really_ believed it and--

 

“Trainee Granger,” Healer Nalker said, interrupting her thoughts, “I know your connections to the patient, and if were solely up to me I would allow you to visit with him but it’s not. When his mother is more receptive we will bring the matter up again and you will be notified immediately."

 

Hermione nodded mutely. "Is he okay?" 

 

"Unfortunately his mother has decided against the course of treatment that has proven to work in other like situations, but we will continue to treat him to the best of our ability. Now,  if you’ll excuse us, Trainee Patil and I need to go to my office for a chat about appropriate workplace conduct."

 

Parvati’s eyes were the size of saucers as she followed silently after Healer Nalker.

 

As she watched them march down the hallway, she knew she should leave as Healer Nalker told her to, but she didn’t --  _couldn’t_.. She didn’t know what happened to Malfoy after she left her flat earlier, if he had hurt himself or someone had hurt him, but either way, she knew she couldn’t just leave him laying in the hospital when she could  _feel_ that he was hurting.

 

The sound of the heartbeat had come and gone and was now replaced with an odd feeling that turned her stomach inside out. She had felt it when she and Parvati got back to her flat, and now the feeling was stronger and even more nauseating. Something was wrong with him, and there was a part of her, though she would continue to deny it even after this, that wanted nothing more than to be the one to make it right.  And that feeling was the one that had her walking down the hallway, past the gossips, and despite the stares, to where she knew he laid.

 

With each step she took her breath labored more and more, and she knew it was because she scared. She was forcing herself to commit to this, to go to him despite knowing what this meant for them. Knowing that by going to him now, when she didn’t have to and wasn’t supposed to, it meant something.

 

And that something, whatever it ended up being, terrified her because she wouldn’t be able to explain it away. It was no longer that she was forced into it because she couldn’t sleep or because Ron had meddled and they needed her help-- no, she was going to him now because something inside her was calling her to do so and she, for the first time since this had all started, was listening.

 

Hermione’s hand hovered over the door handle to room nineteen. She didn’t know what she was going to say to this parents, but after opening the door, and seeing him lying there in an empty room, she let out a relieved breath.

 

She quickly shut the door behind her and pushed her back against it, not quite knowing what to do next.

 

He was lying on the bed almost like the first time she had seen him in St. Mungo's. The only difference now was that he wasn’t motionless. He was tossing and turning, twisting and straining himself before he would fall back on the bed for a few seconds and then start up again.

 

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said to the otherwise quiet room.  “I mean, I’m not sorry because I did something wrong, because I didn’t. I wasn’t.” She felt quite silly having a conversation with him now considering the state he was in, but she continued. “I’m only sorry that you’re here again. That you’re...that you’re like this.”

 

She licked her chapped lips before pushing herself away from the door and taking one step towards him.

 

“Parvati was right. I shouldn’t have left you there.” She admitted softly before taking one step and then another and then another until she was close enough to put her hands on his bed railing. “And I know your mother isn’t going to let me forget it. She’ll raise hell before anyone around here does, but there was no other way for both of you to be safe. If I stayed there, you were going to hurt him or hurt yourself trying to.”

 

Hermione looked down at him, her eyes drawn to the way his chest rose and fell. He was calmer now than he was when she first walked in and she didn’t know if it was because of her or the empty potion that lay on his bedside.

 

Her eyes traveled up and fell on his furrowed brows and, without thinking, she reached out her hand to smooth against them and watched as they relaxed under her touch. She wondered if he felt the same sparks of electricity on his skin as she did hers as she moved her fingers across his face, sliding against his cheek, down his jaw and stopping at his neck where she could feel his pulse beat against her fingers.

 

“What you did was stupid, you know. More than that actually,” she whispered, as she absentmindedly drew circles on his skin. “You weren’t supposed to be there then. This is really much more your fault than mine, honestly.”

 

“Get back to apologizing, Granger. I liked that bit a lot more.” Draco croaked, his words slightly muffled by the coughs that shook his body.

 

Hermione pulled her hand away from him quickly, absolutely mortified. She didn’t know what she had been thinking, or if she had been thinking at all. She clasped her hands behind her back and bravely met his eyes,

 

“You’re awake.”

 

“You’re here.” He said weakly. He tried to push himself up but fell back against his bed quickly. His body twitched for a few seconds, and she thought he might go into another fit, but he settled back down with a huff and another body racking cough. “Why  _are_ you here?”

 

“Don’t know.”

 

“Don’t know?” He mimicked with an odd laugh, “Shit liar you’ve always been, Granger.” Another twitch and cough. “Why are you here?”

 

Hermione took a deep breath. She was there because she been worried about him.

 

And scared for him.

 

Had felt something tugging at her to find him and had gone against what the voice in the back of her head had been yelling at her just to be in front of him now.

 

“Do you want me to leave?”

 

“Never.” He said with his eyes closed tight. He started to shift around on his bed, and though it took her awhile to realize what he was doing, she got the picture when he nodded his head to the space he made. “Stay.”

 

No. This, Hermione thought, was more than she had signed up for. He couldn’t possibly expect her to crawl into bed with him, no matter if the bed was just one assigned at St. Mungo's. 

 

“I won’t bite.” He tried to say that cheekily, she could tell by the small smirk on his face, but another twitch of his body wiped away the playful look on his face. He tongue swept across the front of his teeth and sighed. “Please,” He said for perhaps the first time in his life. “I  _need_ this.”

 

She felt guilty. He probably did need her in the same way she needed him when she couldn’t sleep. And he had helped her then, though she had rallied against the idea, so she knew she should do the same now. But she couldn’t help but hear Ron’s words echoing in her head: ‘ _They know exactly how to manipulate you into doing, and feeling, what they want, Hermione_ ’ he had said. And maybe this was another way a Malfoy was doing that.

 

Yes, he  _did_ look ill, but maybe-

 

“Nevermind, Granger.” His words were cold, and she no longer felt the warm electric feeling that had come from her running her fingers across his skin. “You can leave.”

 

She teetered on her feet for a second, her head twisting round to the door. It would be easy to leave now and, not that she needed it, he had given her permission to do so.

 

But when she stole a look at him while he was turned the other way she noticed that he looked just as she had for the days prior. Tired and exhausted and worn out. That, she thought, couldn’t be faked. Not even by a scheming Malfoy.

 

Hermione took a deep breath and slipped out of her shoes. “Don’t be an idiot.” He raised an eyebrow at her, and she returned the favor. “Move back over.” She ordered as she pushed down the railing to his bed and prepared to climb onto it. “If you touch anywhere you’re not supposed to I’ll-”

 

“Curse me?”

 

“ _Worse_. Much worse.” She told him without giving him any more details. It was scarier that way, she thought as she sat next to him, her back rigged and her hands clasped in her lap.

 

He tugged her down until she was level with him and then, despite her protests, pulled her against him until her back was flush with his front. He didn’t let his hands roam as he could have, and like a part of her was starting to want. Instead, he draped one arm across her shoulder and reached out his hand until it met hers and laced their fingers together, sighing into her hair.

 

She waited a few seconds. “Are you sleeping?”

 

“Would you keep talking if I said yes?”

 

“Yes.” She responded shakily as his thumb drew lazy patterns over her knuckles. She had questions to ask him.  Ones she was sure she wouldn't find the answers to in a book. “Do you know how I-”

 

“Later.”

 

“Later?”

 

“ _Later_.” He murmured, tightening his grip on her hand as if he expected her to take it away from him. But Hermione didn’t though she knew she should.  _This_ was the ‘something’ she had been worried about, she realized.

 

Usually, she could snap out of this fog. It had only taken her a few moments in the past to do so, and then they would be back to how they always were: at odds and fighting. Now, however, she found herself leaning into the feeling instead of trying to get away from it.

 

It must be because he was sick, she rationalized. Because there was no other way that-

 

“Sleeping?”

 

“No,” Hermione responded quickly. 

 

“Then just over thinking.” He breathed out into her hair. “Stop worrying, Granger. We’re not in a battle, and you haven’t conceded anything by being here.” He said as if he could read her mind.  He pulled her closer to him. “Just give me a few more minutes.”

 

And she would. Honestly, she would have liked to stay with him for longer, and maybe she would have if it weren’t for the door that creaked open the moment had resigned herself to. She jumped from the bed when she saw the witch who was standing in the entryway with her face pulled back in anger, and her finger pointed accusingly at her.

 

“Mother…”

 

“I should get you fired you thoughtless little girl.” Narcissa eye’s flashed in anger as she took a step into the room.

 

“Mrs. Malfoy, I-”

 

“I would have you jailed if I could! The state you left my son in why you gallivanted around with that Weasley. Yes, Ms. Granger, we know  _all_ about that.”

 

“If I hadn’t left he would have-”

 

“Found out that olive branch he extended to you was all for naught? Tell me,  Ms. Granger, did you and that Weasley trash conspire to get my son in trouble with the Ministry? To get him off your hands, is that it?”

 

She wasn’t giving Hermione a second to answer any of her accusations, so she stopped trying, especially when she heard the stirring behind her and saw Malfoy twitching on the bed before stilling completely.

 

“You’re upsetting him,” Hermione told his mother.

 

“ _I’m_ upsetting him? Do you realize he’s only in this position because of  _you.”_

 

“Whatever you think happened, didn’t,” Hermione told her, finally getting a word in edgewise. “I’m here because I wanted to help. Healer Nalker said there is a treatment plan that you are going against that might help him. I think you should do it.”

 

Narcissa’s eyes flashed again. “Hold your tongue about things that don’t concern you, girl.” The older witch said, “You know nothing about the ‘treatment’ that was prescribed, and it would be wise if you kept your nose out of this least you find out more than you want to. ”

 

Hermione was unswayed. “Healer Nalker is one of the best healers in the Hospital, if not the world. If she thinks that-”

 

“She thinks that these fits he’s having will keep happening and they will get worse and worse each time he feels you are in trouble.”

 

“I wasn’t in any trouble.” Hermione rushed to say.

 

“It doesn’t matter what you say now, girl, it’s what he feels then that counts. He’ll be discharged from the hospital soon enough, but there is always the risk of him ending back here given the trouble you seem to get yourself into daily. Is that what you want to happen?”

 

Hermione shook her head. “If you’ll only give the treatment course a chance it may-”

 

“It will not work. There is no potion that can cure what he has or the symptoms that come from it. They may stave it off temporarily, yes, but they will be there, and they will grow until the potions no longer have any effect and he will have to take more and more of them. I can’t submit my son to that. I won’t.” She looked at Draco and then back at Hermione. “But there is something else that can be done. Something they haven't thought of. Do you want to know?”

 

Hermione nodded though she was starting to feel unsure of it. She didn’t know what to make of the expression on Narcissa’s face or the new tone her voice had taken.

 

“To save my son from a life of being poked and prodded in the hospital or fed potions until he can’t take it anymore, you and he will have to...commit to this. More so than you’re doing now.”

 

“What?” Hermione choked out, “Like  _marriage_?” There was no way. The thought of marrying him, no matter what it could solve, was absolutely-

 

“No, you silly girl.” Hermione let out a sigh of relief. “Veelas and their mates need no rings to commit to each other. Their ceremony is different, but just as binding. If you truly want to help him, you and he will have to complete the mating ceremony."

 

::

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on tumblr here :)](http://www.diemdoll.tumblr.com)


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